


The Parting Glass or All roads lead to you

by Bookwyrm743



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassin Clarke, Badass Clarke, Clarke Lives, Clexa, Crazy Clarke, F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kinda, Lexa Lives, Nothing gets solved, Overly detailed fight scenes, Scarification, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Solving Problems with myths, Stealth Clarke, Tired Lexa, Walkabouts, for a month, it's fine, mostly plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookwyrm743/pseuds/Bookwyrm743
Summary: Clarke returns with her people from the mountain, but she can't see their faces anymore. All she can see is the lives she has taken, the futures she's changed and the blood on her hands. Everything she has every done has been for her people, and maybe she can't escape from that part of herself. But maybe escape is not what she's after. This is Clarke's journey to peace, love, and learning how to live.





	1. The Parting Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is going to follow Clarke's descent through grief, it's going to take a long time, trust me I wrote it, I know. Some of the characters are frustrating at times, and I'm not sure if there will be a sequel, but these characters (Save the OC's) don't belong to me. The world doesn't belong to me, etc. I laughed, I cried, and I hope you do too.
> 
> Trig translations are in Italics at the end of each paragraph

“I think we deserve a drink.” Bellamy decided, his face drawn with worry.

“Good idea.” Clarke chuckled, following him into the camp with heavy steps. They both felt the weight of their actions, the price weighing upon their heads. They moved slowly through the camp, watching parents embrace children, friends, reunions all over the place. It was a beautiful sight. Clarke downed her drink with a sigh, eyes closed.

“How are you doing?” Bellamy took her hand, drawing her gaze. “What’s going on in that head of yours.”

She swept the room, instead of seeing her people drinking and celebrating, she saw the men in the mountain gathering under flags, offering chocolate cake and playing ball with the children. Their burned out faces, the bodies piled in the mess hall. Red blisters and sores spreading across their skin so quickly, she blinked and the image left. “Nothing, just glad to have everyone home.” She sighed, sipping from her cup. The sound of laughter and cheering became the screams and moans of the dying.

“We did good Clarke. We got our people home. Without Lexa.” Bellamy smiled at her, “We did it Clarke.” He squeezed her hand and took another drink. He smiled and laughed with the rest of the crew, trading hugs and small talk with the ones rescued from the mountain. Clarke watched them, smiling and shaking hands as they all tried to thank her for saving them. Each time another gave thanks, she felt her stomach churn a little harder, the images stayed a little longer. By the end of the night she could barely hold her cup.

Bellamy stumbled off to bed, tipsy and happy, the smile on his face was a rare and welcome sight. It was worth it to oblige him one last time.

Clarke stood up, her legs steady as she walked out of the mess hall, sharing smiles as she passed her friends. Finally outside of the mess hall, Clarke looked up to the clear skies and locked on the cold moon watching her. A beacon of light, passive, watching all of their wars, their sins and their failures. Just like the Ark. Standing above it all and watching them die. “I’m done watching my people burn!” She shouted, letting out a scream of rage. Only the moon stood sentinel over her pain and declaration, watching her declare her promise to the sky.

“I’m done...” Clarke panted, hands shaking as she marched towards the gates.

With everyone inside celebrating or sleeping it off, she walked out of the camp without protest or witness. She walked. Soon enough the trace of alcohol in her blood went away, returning the chill of the night to her fingers and toes. An ache began in her feet as the sun dawned over the forest, light washing over the trees and setting fire to the morning. Clarke looked up, remembering the wonder, the ease of their first days on the ground, where all they had to worry about was the next meal, and how beautiful the next ridge could be. The trees passed her by, each one just as familiar as her own face, Clarke had the path to the dropship inscribed into her soul by a hundred expeditions.

Ash and bones littered the ground, shattered and broken reminders of more sins, more lives lost to protect her people. Clarke ran her hand over the faded chalk her mother left as a message for her, to save her. Clarke sighed, Abby left messages and notes and tried peace through healing, while Clarke left bodies and tried peace through guns and bombs. Superior weaponry. “So much loss.”

She fell to her knees covering herself in the remains of the fallen. She pulled the knife from her boot. “For Atom.” She dug the point into her arm until a bead of blood slid down her wrist. “For Wells.” Another mark, more blood. “For Charlotte.” She gasped, tears dripping down her cheeks, joining with the beads of blood dripping off her body. “For Caliban. And Anya, Maya, Dante.” The names kept coming, she ripped off her sleeves and kept marking. When she ran out of names, she sobbed her way through the marks for each grounder she killed to save her people at the dropship until there was too much blood to even see her own skin. “Blood demands blood, this is mine.”

She stood, hands shaking, dripping with the red that filled her soul with guilt and pain, dripping with regret. Clarke kept walking. She couldn’t feel the pain of her body but her heart cried out, her mind showed her the faces of the dead watching her in vigil. Judging her for her sins, watching like the moon overhead and waiting for her to do what is necessary.

Clarke walked until she made it to the river, she filled her stomach with water, staying close to the edge so that the monster within wouldn’t attack. She still had work to do, a mission to fulfill. Her arms were covered in a thin pink residue, hundreds of dots scattered on her arms, raised up with clotted blood.

Clarke watched the sun fall again on the world, covering them all in the darkness of night, the purest black. The trees swaying gently, their shadows moving with the world and calling out for all the darkest things to gather. Clarke fit right into it all, swaying with the shadows, disappearing into the darkness as she walked and the moon watched over.

Blisters formed over the bottom of her feet, just as they had when she first landed, her stomach ached with the lack of food. She welcomed the pure feeling, it kept her in the present, thinking of the needs of the moment.

Food and shelter, and a rest from the day’s labors. She slept where she fell, stumbling over her own leaden feet with needles of pine as her pillows. Clarke woke to the feeling of water dripping onto her face, the patter of droplets falling to the ground and the chills racking her bones. The others stood watch, their faces blistered or burned but passive.

She pushed herself to her feet with shaking arms, staggering through the woods, Clarke heard cracking beneath her feet. A red car. Where she hid with Finn and Wells from the acid fog. The tears came again, mixing with the rain as she remembered. Another failure. She lifted her blade once more, gripped it tightly in her hand. “For Finn.” She clenched her hand down on the blade and pressed it to her stomach, just to the right of her false rib. The same place she had stabbed him. She dragged the knife up splitting the skin. Clarke felt the liquid soak into her shirt, draining from her body. The pain was no more real to her than the ache in her feet or the burning of her blisters.

Her real agony stood watch over her suffering, all with Finn at the very front, all their eyes on her, bearing witness. “I’m not done yet.” She assured them, “Jus drein jus daun.” Clarke kept walking. Light faded before she found a cave to rest in, shivering from the cold and soaked to the bone.

She gathered together the wood for a fire, her fingers trembling around the bow as she worked the kindling into a flame. Smoke filled her eyes and brought tears back. Her nose warmed by the embers as they caught and rose up the wood. She raised her hand over the flames feeling the heat sear through her flesh, bringing back the feeling of warmth with violence.

“Did it feel like this to burn in the radiation?” She looked up to Maya and the other inhabitants of the mountain, “You blister and bleed… Did you feel the pain of the grounders you bled? Do they haunt you too?” The mountain men looked on silently. “I don’t see your demons with you.” Clarke sighed, pulling her hand back and examining the beginnings of the blisters in her palm without any hint of the pain that should be there. “Nothing.”

She curled up, pressing her body against the rough stone. Her only movement for the next few days was to put more wood upon the fire and stoke it. The sun never seemed to rise or fall under the rains. It only grew more or less grey as she waited for the storm to pass. Her clothes dried just in time for her to go get more wood.

Tripping over roots and branches. Damp branches and leaves that smoked more than they burned. The ground sagged beneath her weight, leaving deep footprints and broken branches. “I cannot even walk through the forest without leaving destruction.” Clarke looked to Anya, “That is what you said to me.”

When she received no response, she slowed her steps, being more careful to step on the harder ground, rocks, and spots without plants.

It didn’t make sense to her so much as it felt right to stop her reign of death with the forest that had sheltered and protected the hundred from so much. Perhaps someday she could apply that same care to the lives of other humans.

“I cannot apologize for the man who killed you, but I can stop killing your home.” When Clarke returned to her cave, rain soaked through her clothing once more, and her stomach snarled with hunger. The emptiness inside was more than just regret.

“If only you had taught me to hunt too.” She joked, looking to the others, “I’ll have to depend on Bellamy for that I suppose.” Clarke stoked the fire once more, drying her wood by its side. She took the longest branch she had found and began honing the edge. Cutting it away in strips piece by piece. The spear formed. When the rain cleared Clarke stood and set out from the cave. She stepped carefully, listening to the sounds of the forest, looking through the faces of her sins for signs of life.

Years could have passed in the woods, decades she spent walking through the forest. A deer in the distance, it nibbled at the branches. Clarke crouched low, moving even slower to avoid being seen. She moved forward and the needles crackled beneath her feet. The deer lifted its head, looking for the source. Clarke lifted the spear slowly. She took another step forward and the deer bolted. She lunged after it, throwing the weapon wide of her target. “Dammit!” She scooped up her weapon and followed the deer at a sprint.

She followed the sound of breaking branches and the crash of the deer trying to escape its hunter. Clarke followed after it, breathing heavily as she slowed.

Dogged determination in every step.

Stomach snarling with every step.

Her ghosts watched her every step.

The light came and she found the tracks more easily, tracing the path of the scared animal all over the woods. Up a cliff, across the ridge and through the forest on the other side. She slowed but never stopped, each step was towards survival, towards life. “I’m not finished yet.” She panted, “Not yet.” The light left, and she kept following.

Through trees, over hills, across rivers. The light came and left and she kept following.

Clarke came to the edge of the woods, her quarry trotting across a field of grass, its sides slathered with foam, head low. “I’m not finished yet.” Clarke snarled, aching muscles screaming in protest, her limbs fighting against the command to move faster.

She ran.

Spear held high, screaming her rage at the beast.

The deer kicked up its pace for only a few moments before it collapsed. It landed in a heap, screaming in the pain of death. Clarke fell to her knees beside the beast, “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

She ran her weapon through its heart, falling onto the flailing creature’s side. “Thank you.” She panted.

This time, when the blood flowed over her hands and she felt the body grow cold it was with thanks, not regret, that she continued her work.

The fire took almost as long as cleaning the animal did, and soon her body was trembling with hunger. The pain of her twisting stomach finally registering, finally she felt her own body talking back. “It’s about damn time you showed up.” She muttered to her stomach, spearing the meat upon her blade and shoving it into the fire, just long enough for the edges to blacken and the blood to dry. She ate her fill of charred meat.

Vicious cramps clenched so tight that all Clarke couldn’t stop herself from forcing the meat back up in a smelly mess of bile and venison.

Clarke laughed breathlessly over the mess, “Stupid.”

She spent over an hour taking small bites of her next piece, rubbing her stomach slowly. She lifted her eyes to the sky, realizing the darkness had returned and her eyes could not adjust to it. Her fire drowning out the stars. “You will have to stop watching someday.” She chided the moon, pointing her knife at the glowing orb that watched her eat. “Someday you’ll have to do something about it all.”

The rest of the meat Clarke cut into strips and placed on the outside of the fire, letting it dry out as the darkness faded into light. She watched the flames dance within the wood, glowing with a light that was once forbidden to her, a light that now was so commonplace. Murderer, the most dangerous thing on the ark, it was now the only thing that brought life on the ground. “Maybe I just haven’t found the right place for me yet.” Clarke took the dried meat and wrapped it in her jacket. She tied it to her waist and kept walking.

The field ended, and the trees swallowed her again, surrounded her with her sins once more. The aches from her body, the pain in her feet, the clenching of her stomach, it all seemed to disappear under the stares of all the people she had killed. “Do you speak? Any of you?” She looked at them all, ran her fingers over the bumps of her healing scars.

The light came and went, every day passing without note or number. Clarke needed to keep count of all the faces.

Leaves littered the forest floor, twigs snapped underfoot, branches broke when she bumped them too hard. Clarke made it her goal to walk as silently as possible, moving like a ghost through the forest. Like the phantoms that haunted her steps, she walked in the steps of Anya, Finn, Maya and all the others as they stalked the forest floor. Clarke paused when she heard the clang of her boot on metal debris, looked down to see a smoking wreckage. The crater on the edge of Tondisi, no longer part of the village but a memorial to her choice.

More marks to be made.

Clarke dropped, ripped away her shirt and began the process again, she had heard the numbers and watched the bodies carried away. She knew how many to make, and she saw the faces that moved to the front of the crowd. 269 more marks, each one bringing another bead of blood to the surface, each one a reminder of what she had done.

“It is done.” She panted, looking to the crowd and she realized that the faces were gone, the burned and broken left her. “Jus drein, jus daun…” She looked around, “I will bleed for all of you.” Standing with the sheet of red covering her stomach and chest, “I am not done yet.” She pulled her shirt back on, and kept walking.

The mountain called to her.

She found it once more. At the door she fell again. She began with her shoulders now, all that she could reach, “One hundred and eighty-two men, one hundred and seventy-three women, and twenty six children.” Clarke sighed, her body covered in blood. She got to her feet and kept walking. The ghosts who walked with her now were faceless, leading them somewhere, led by Anya, and Finn. “Goodbye Maya, may we meet again.” She nodded to the girl, holding back tears, “May you forgive me someday.”

She followed the others away from the mountain, her footsteps long and silent. As she mimicked the ways of the others walking, she slowly became more and more like those ghosts. Quiet. The animals around her seemed startled to see her. The trees didn’t notice her passing. The woods did not follow her.

Clarke found herself far from the trees of home, the ocean of trees around her began to change, shift and turn to different leaves. There were fewer needles, and her fingers ached less from the cold. When her stomach began to churn, Clarke would rip away the meat from her stash and eat as she walked. When the air came dry through her throat and she gasped for moisture, she would fall into the next river, drink what she needed and leave.

She passed the trees, into the fields of grain, the land of the plains clan. She crossed the endless hills. Eat. Drink. Walk. She realized the reason for her journey. Smoke rose from broken tents, and the ground was black from fire.

“The flares…” Clarke ran for the village, past the rider clan going about their day, they didn’t recognize her as any clan, her skin dark with dirt and dried blood. Warriors grasped their blades, and mothers grabbed their children. Clarke shambled past them to the long dead pyre and dropped, “No…” There were no numbers, and there was no way to atone for those gathered around her.

She looked around, saw someone, a woman. Clarke grabbed her, “Who.. Hani died kom uh, skai faya?” She cursed her lacking knowledge of their language, she could barely speak a sentence and even then she didn’t know if it made sense.

_How many died from the fires in the sky?_

The woman looked frightened, but she answered, “Sison tu.” She frowned, cupping Clarke’s cheeks, “Chit gon yu kom her?”

Clarke shook her head and pulled out her knife, pushing it to the woman, “Sison tu cuts. No reachin.” She turned around and lifted her shirt, showing the woman her scars. When the woman hesitated, Clarke said it again. “Sison tu cuts. No reachin.” She looked over her shoulder with tears in her eyes, “Please.”

_Sixty-two cuts. I can’t reach them._

The woman nodded, lifting the dagger, searching for an empty place among all the marks on Clarke’s back. She tried to look for the places that would hurt the least but there were so many. Eventually she settled on Clarke’s spine, knowing that it would hurt. She expected the child to flinch, but she didn’t. The strange girl with the odd accent didn’t even seem to register the pain, only cried her silent tears as the marks were made.

When they were done, the woman put her shaking bloody hand on the girl’s shoulder, “Kom glong yongon op hosa ai.”

Clarke looked over her shoulder and shook her head, “Ai don’t get em.”

_I don’t understand._

“Come home with me child.” The woman said softly, pushing Clarke’s hair back, “I will give you rest.” Clarke shook her head, tried to pull away, but the woman tugged her arm, “Come rest.” It was clear to the woman that if she allowed this child to leave, there would be more death.

“I have to go, there are more. I need to atone.” She pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks, “Please let me go.”

The woman shook her head, holding Clarke firmly, “I have no more children, let me attend to you instead.” She tugged Clarke along with her, the girl too tired to fight with anything but her tears. Into her tent, and down to the floor.

As soon as she hit the soft furs, she fell asleep, and the woman was left alone with the sleeping child.

The woman removed Clarke’s jacket and shirt to tend to her wounds and winced. There was no inch of her skin that was flat. Her biceps, stomach, shoulders, back, all the way up her chest there was nothing clear of markings. All of them in some stage of infection, red and brown lines spread from the marks, leaving a nest of bad blood.

Fever chills set the girl to shuddering through her slumber, had affected her steps as she stumbled through the village. “Chon gon yu yongon?”

_Who are you child?_

She grabbed a cloth and water and began to clean the red skin, removing the blood and dirt from the fresh wounds. Some looked to be nearly closed, while those on her spine were fresh and bleeding sluggishly.

Tenderly, the woman washed away the stains on the girl’s pale skin, being careful not to break the blisters that had formed on her injuries. Removed her boots, and tended to the raw blistered flesh, caked with blood and pus. A tear dripped down her cheek as she looked at the suffering hidden in such a small tired body. The thin childlike face that held no peace even in slumber.

All she saw was the hollow desperation of someone in agony staring through those eyes, pleading with her to place the blame for their dead on her body. She replaced Clarke’s clothes with some of her own, and tossed the bloodstained garments to burn while she waited for her guest to awake. Clarke tossed and turned in the night, through the day she continued to be haunted. She woke with a start, looking around her didn’t help. Inside the tent there was no room for her phantoms, the sentinels of her crimes. For the first time since the destruction of Tondisi, Clarke woke up alone. How does she suddenly know how long its been? She shivered, hugging herself tight, and felt foreign fabric. A bright teal woven shirt, pale leather pants that were too loose. The tent flap moved and she skittered backwards until her back was to one of the poles.

“Yu rid op longtiem fyucha. Choj op nau.” She gestured to a plate with meat and a flat bread on it. When Clarke didn’t move, the woman sat next to her and lifted the plate, “Eat fyucha, you sleep too long.”

Clarke nodded, taking the food and ate slowly. Her eyes closed and a hum escaped her lips. “Thank you.”

“Ai Asiya.” She placed her hand to her chest and looked at Clarke expectantly.

“I’m Clarke.” She rasped, offering her a smile, “I should be going.”

The woman tilted her head, “Hasta yu bleed gon emo?” She looked down, “Why do you bleed for them? They aren’t your people.”

Clarke looked down at the fur she was sitting on, “I killed them, I sent those flares that killed your people. I sent the skai faya.”

Asiya lifted Clarke’s chin, “Yu gon a fyucha. Yu nou frag emo op. You did not kill them.”

“I did.” She sniffed, feeling her eyes fill with tears. The phantoms may be gone but she could feel their stares, their eyes through the tent walls, reminding her that she was not done paying.

Asiya shook her head, and pulled Clarke into her arms, “Fyucha nou mourn stedaun. Kik raun, hit op, hon daun yu chilnes.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” She sobbed, crying into Asiya’s arm. She could feel the concern radiating from Asiya, this stranger made her feel safe from the eyes of her demons. She felt strong arms around her, the sting of her back, the ache of her feet. She felt like she was home again.

“Stay.” Asiya ran her fingers through snarled hair, rubbing the back of this girl, so young and vulnerable. Burdened by so much. “It is safe here, rest before you leave.” She didn’t understand how the child wasn’t screaming in pain from her wounds, her infections. She couldn’t let this child die from guilt over whatever had happened.

Clarke nodded, “Okay.” She pressed her face into rough wool, “I’ll stay.” Her whole body ached with guilt and exhaustion. She was tired, beyond the need for sleep. She carried too much in the trees, it was time to lay down her burden. For a time. She needed to heal before she could continue. The eyes still followed her, the moon still watched. Clarke was not done paying.

Asiya was without a family, living alone in her tent but she was well connected to the rest of the tribe. Every morning she would set three vats of water to heat up over a fire, and Clarke would sit by the mouth of the tent and watch the older woman sprinkle various flowers and herbs into each one. Then she would set bundles of wool into each.

While the bundles soaked, Asiya sat next to Clarke with a wooden frame and weave beautiful patterns. Members of the tribe would come and speak to Asiya, it always seemed that as soon as one person left another two or even three would take their place.

It began to feel a bit like the food tables by the dropship, a place where everyone could gather and talk about anything and everything. Even children would come running over to watch Asiya make her blankets, gasping as pictures formed before her eyes.

Sometimes Asiya would tell Clarke to go and stir the vats and she would get to see the different colors of the day. Sometimes it would be all shades of one color, or they would be blues and greens and yellows that all seemed to clash until woven together. No matter what, they were always bright and vibrant, blinding in comparison to the dark cloth worn by most of the other tribes.

Between stirring the vats and trying to understand the conversations taking place beside her, Clarke had only one thing to watch. The warriors training in the pasture, practicing with bows and knives, mounting their horses at speed. Their movements formed moving patterns across the fields that made as little sense as the machine Asiya used to make her fabrics.

Clarke decided it would take a very long time to make sense of what the warriors were doing.


	2. Finding peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys so much for the support I've received already! It feels great to know that you're enjoying this story. Clarke's going to take some time to rest up a bit before the world comes crashing into this little slice of happiness she's found.

“Where are you going?” Clarke asked, watching Asiya pack her bow and sword into her pack, and neaten up the tent that was their home.  


“Hon daun dina.” She smiled, “Trilipa nou hod op.”  
_To find dinner. The deer do not wait._  


“I could go with you?” Clarke offered, remembering her last attempt to hunt down a deer. If nothing else, she knew she could clean it and dress it for Asiya. Most of her injuries had healed, though some still gave her trouble. It had taken a great deal of nursing to get her back to even this level of health.  


Without hesitation Asiya smiled and tossed Clarke her dagger and the spear she had made back in the woods. “Hod op ogeda.”  
_We hunt together._  


The horses stamped their feet in excitement, tugging at their post as they pranced and shook their heads. “Chilnes Ashdaun, chilnes.” Clarke caught her horse’s head and stroked his cheek, “Oso hon daun dina nau.” She smiled, her face lit with a rare sign of happiness.  
_Peace snowfall, peace. We will find dinner tonight._  


Asiya smiled into the straps of her pack as she secured it to her own mount. “Yu beda ged in reinja.” She offered a bow to Clarke and a quiver of arrows. “Yu ste yuj.”  
_You should learn the bow. You are strong._  


“I… I don’t know.” Clarke looked away, her hand on her knife. Knuckles turned white around the hilt. Her eyes were on the ground, but she could feel the eyes of her phantoms, two months with Asiya and they never left her again. She couldn’t escape unless she was on the back of Ashdaun, running faster than the wind could carry her, faster than even her sins could watch. She didn’t know if she could outrun them if she picked up a real weapon again.  


Asiya walked over to Clarke, lifting her chin with a soft hand, “Hed op fyucha, trikova stedaun nau mafta yu op. Kom smak daun, ged op nodotiem. Dei ste oso edei.” She pressed the well crafted piece of wood and twine into Clarke’s hand, “Stedaun have their blood. Trilipa will not speak against you. Take it.”  
_Look up child, the ghosts of the dead can’t follow you. Get knocked down, get back up again. This is our way. The dead have their blood. The deer will not speak against you._  


Clarke nodded, taking the bow. She ran her hand over the intricate carvings that swept across the handle, swirls and curls like the wind as it rushed across the plains. “Ged op nodotiem.” She gripped it tightly in her palms, and swung herself onto Ashdaun’s back. Asiya smiled and climbed onto her own mount. “Hiya!” Clarke shouted, kicking into a gallop. Ashdaun surged forward, her body moving in tune with Clarke as they became like the wind, leaving behind all the whispers of guilt, the faceless shadows, and the faces she knew too well.  


Asiya let out a whoop that was echoed by the village as they passed, the breeze lifting their braids and scarves to wave like banners behind them. They rode for miles, the dawn turning to day and lighting fire to the amber grass around them as they scattered birds and grass all around them. It was the most beautiful thing Clarke could imagine, the light, the sound of her breath in time with Ashdaun, the smell of dry grass and oiled leather, and the feel of the wind in her hair, lifting all of her braids high off her neck and wicking away the sweat that lay there. Here she was free from the faces of Anya, Wells and Finn. She was free from the fear of how many faces were waiting, how many lives were lost in her absence, how many more choices would fall to her account.  


It was Asiya who first called for a stop, sweat dripping down the red markings on her brow and dotting along her cheekbones. “Come, we must first make sure you can draw the bow.” She teased, gesturing at a herd of deer a few hundred feet away.  


Clarke notched an arrow the way she had seen Asiya and the warriors do before, her hand shaking as she lifted the body up, the fletching caressing her cheekbones. She sighted down the shaft, her eye on the deer she had chosen. Its skin was loose and less vibrant than that of its brothers. She trembled. Remembering just how it felt, the bang, the recoil, the splat and the regret. She relaxed her draw, the bow falling to her side as Clarke panted. “I can’t. I can’t do this.” She shook her head, body shaking. Their stares pierced her soul and she felt each of her scars throb as one.  


Asiya appeared before Clarke’s eyes, tanned hands cupped her cheeks and another face appeared in her view, one she had not seen since that night in front of the mountain. Smeared warpaint, green eyes that saw into her soul and found only broken pieces. She tried to scramble back, giving a shriek when she fell off her horse. “Get away from me!” She kept scrambling and turned, sprinting away as fast as she could, her tears falling thing and fast. Clarke couldn’t see, her eyes clouded. She ran to get away. She crashed through the thick grasses, heedless of where she stepped.  


Asiya didn’t catch up until she heard the snap and scream. Clarke disappeared into the grass, and she waded through the thick stems until she found the place where Clarke lay, her leg bent at odd angles. “Fyucha!” She screamed, running over, “Du spichen nau ged in! Hashta don yu run?” She scooped Clarke up into her arms, trying to hold back her tears, “Hashta don yu run?”  
_Child! Damn fool! Why did you run?_  


Clarke shook her head and tried to hold her leg as Asiya jostled her, “No no no no, don’t move me, my leg is broken.” She gasped, eyes squeezed shut in pain. “Ple-please, we have to set it. I need sticks, straight and something to tie them with.”  


“Branwada.” Asiya snapped, “We just stopped your old infections, now you break yourself again.” She shook her head, standing up to find the sticks, “Do not move.” Asiya held her hand out and stalked off towards the horses who were all bouncing around in their discomfort. Asiya soothed them and pulled from the bundle of sticks they kept for fire she brought them back to Clarke. She offered them to Clarke, wary that the girl might try to run away again. “Wrap em op.”  


Clarke nodded, trembling from head to toe. Her face was pale as she put the sticks on either side of her leg, “I need you to set the bone, I-I don’t know if I can do it.”  


The woman knelt, and with gentle hands, began to feel for the place where Clarke’s leg bent wrong. Her palms travelled up the girl’s shin to the mid calf and she felt Clarke pull away. “Shh, chil au fyucha, disha laksen.” Her hands were steady, but her spine grew cold as she winced in preparation. She gave a mighty push and felt the click of the bone move into place.  
_Be calm child, this will hurt._  


Clarke’s scream carried across the plain for miles, stopping all in their tracks for a moment, from the smallest mouse to the greatest buffalo. She sagged in a heap, face pale and thin. Asiya wiped the tears from her face and finished binding the splints onto Clarke’s leg. When the girl woke, it would be in the tent of their healer, with Asiya sleeping by her side.  


It was nearly silent when Clarke awoke, just the phantom breaths of the sleeping and the raggedness of the ill. She lifted herself up, trying not to stir Asiya and closed her eyes. Another failure, more time wasted because she couldn’t even hold a weapon without fearing for the lives she had already taken. Not even a deer could free her from the guilt. How could she live if she couldn’t even do what was necessary to survive?  


Someone stirred, whimpering as they woke. “Woda?” he rasped.  


Clarke sat up, her face twisting in pain. “Just a minute.” She got to her feet, resting her weight on her unbroken leg, the injured one crying out from the abuse of moving. Clarke tried resting her weight on her injury and darkness flickered across her vision, “No good.” She braced her arm on the bed and hopped, gasping as lightning shot up her leg. It was blinding, but she fought through, hopping until she made it to the bedside of the feverish boy. “Here. Yu drein daun.” She poured a glass of water and held it to his lips.  
_Drink this._  


He nodded his thanks when he was done and she set the glass aside. “Ai chek au yu laudnes?” She asked softly, looking for where he had been hurt. He looked up at her cautiously and nodded, lifting his shirt to show her the gash along his ribs. Clarke smiled at him, gently prodding his ribs around the edges of the wound itself. He flinched, crying out in pain. She removed the pressure and began to hum to him. Clarke carefully searched the damage to the bone, grimacing as she realized the location of the break. It was along his side, in a good place to end up getting a bone chip or a punctured lung.  


Clarke looked around for a healer or something but she couldn’t see anyone, and couldn’t remember if they had one in the village so she rolled up her sleeves and got to work. “Sleep.” She urged, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. He nodded, drifting off into a wheezing slumber. A sigh trailed from her lips as Clarke realized what she needed to do. A tight chest wrap and sutures on the cut itself, not to mention something to handle the fever that was beginning to rage through the boy’s body.  


She looked around, and finding the healer’s bag made the work go much faster. She recognized the herbs they used as ones similar to the forests, and though the labels were in a shorthand that wasn’t recognizable, the smells and look of them were as familiar as the faces that followed her. Clarke woke the boy up long enough to give him a sedative, then began to work without fear of him waking up. Her stitches were smooth, practiced and clean. A far cry from the mess she used to inflict on the 100. As soon as she had tied the last stitch, she smoothed a poultice over it that would act as a bandage, drying into a hard plaster that would protect him from breaking the threads that held him together.  


“Thank you.” Clarke turned to see a young man, his body thin and his expression unsure, “Our healer died in the skaifaya last year.”  


Clarke looked down and finished the wrap on the boy’s chest, pulling it tight to keep everything from shifting around. How many more had died because she killed off their healer, strangers, villagers, infants? “What was your healer’s name?” Her fingers trailed over her shoulder, feeling each bump, remembering each name she had learned.  


“Shansa, she was my fos.”  
_First_  


Clarke frowned, “I thought only gonas had sekens.”  
_Warriors had seconds_  


“All children must learn from a sada, whether it is to throw a spear or to sew a wound.” He gestured at the boy she had helped, “I did not know what to do. Could you help me?”  
He was offering her another impossible choice. Could she put more lives in her hands? Choose who would live and die? Would she make it anyway if she refused to help this child, and put on him the guilt of failure. There was no option. Only pain. “Of course, what is your name?”  


His eyes lit up in excitement, “I am Liffecha.”  


“Giraffe?” Clarke laughed, “Alright Liffecha, teach me how to read these markings.” She hopped over to a chair and sat down to read his teacher’s notes. The key he had given her translated it into Trigedasleng, so from there she had to quiz him on the words she did not understand while he went to each of the ill.  


“Sada,” Liffecha called, “Her leg is branwada.” He looked over for help.  
_Teacher, her leg is useless._  


Clarke tried to stand, but the world flickered black again and even her phantoms had a trace of concern on their faces as her body screamed for rest. “I-I can’t go there. Describe what happened, and what it looks like.”  


He described a riding accident, not unlike her own except it was the horse that broke the girl’s leg, and where the skin had broken was the spreading the vivid red and brown lines. An infection that ran deep, maybe into the bone itself. The leg had been set but the wound was the real problem. Clarke looked through the key for anything that would help clean the blood. “Hey, hey take this. Give her this herb, make it into a tea, and have her drink it.” Clarke sniffed it and winced, “It will not taste good.”  


The boy took the herb with a smile, “Healing never does Sada.” He followed her every instruction, describing their wounds in detail for her so that she could instruct. It continued like this for weeks while Clarke healed up. Soon those across the plains came to see Liffecha and his bossy assistant for their ills, even for their animals when they became too sick to handle. Each time the wounds overtook the body and another patient succumbed, it was Clarke who sat with them, explained to their loved ones, and it was Clarke who would return to Asiya’s side, grieving for another lost. Another mark upon her body.  


Every day that passed Clarke found it easier to smile and laugh with the rest of the people. The phantoms became transparent, leaving her alone through the day, only returning when she failed to save another person. It was… For Clarke it was home, and family and everything that she had been without since her father was floated.  


Rumor began to spread of Wanheda and how she had commanded so many in the plains to live. Bringing back breath to those who had gone, and bringing peaceful death to those who were beyond saving. The village was proud of Clarke, soon she had earned her tattoos and became one of the Ingranronakru. It was a permanent sign of her value to the village but deep down, Clarke knew that there were some who would seek her power through death or subjugation. It was one of many pieces of their culture that Asiya had taught Clarke in their time together. “Yu gon won kom osir nau, sad in yu tat Clarke kom Ingranrona.”  
You are one of us now, choose your tattoo Clarke of the Plains rider clan.  


Clarke nodded, feeling the approval of all present, and Asiya watched her with pride and love. They had spent a great deal of time together, and as far as the older woman was concerned, Clarke had found her peace. “Ai pudon op gon tat kom ai kru.” She replied, gesturing to her forehead and down her nose, it was one of the few places she remained unmarked.  
_I will wear the tattoo of my clan._  


Their chief smiled and nodded their head, “Yu koma oso.” He held out his arm to Clarke and she grasped his forearm tightly, holding back the tears in her eyes and the swelling in her heart. “Now we celebrate!” He roared, throwing his free arm into the air, as the others joined his cheers.  
_You honor us all._  


Clarke blinked away the tears as all in the village gathered by the bonfire to eat and drink away the evening. She went to the tent of their painter Shaira with a wide smile, describing her request. At first she was surprised that Clarke would want to mark her face first, but after showing Shaira her back, she understood the desire. After all, one cannot paint a canvas that is already covered. It was while Shaira finished her second design on Clarke that a man walked into the tent, “Come celebrate with us… Wanheda.” Clarke looked up to see one of the traders from Trikru running from the tent with a pale face, shouting to some of his kru about finding Wanheda.  


Her heart sank into her stomach, and Clarke felt more eyes on her than just those of the artist. She apologized to Shaira and left as soon as the tattoo was done. Each step through the village felt like walking through a stranger’s home, of course she didn’t belong here. What had she been thinking to settle for so long. Her fight was not over. What a disgrace to those who died for her to live, and still she ached to stay, to pretend that her debts had been paid. Branwoda. Clarke knew she would never be done paying, not until her body was laid in the ground and her rights had been said.  
_Idiot._  


Asiya was sitting at the bonfire with a few of the spikas from the trader’s caravan. Storytellers mostly but also the ones who bought and sold the goods they traded. It was a familiar sight. Clarke had spent many nights watching Asiya weave next to the fire, stories and cloth. Stories about the villagers, myths and legends of their people. “I need to speak with you.” Clarke tugged Asiya away from the fire to their tent, wishing she didn’t have to say goodbye to it all. Wishing she had never agreed to it in the first place.  


“Why do you cry?” Asiya frowned, cupping Clarke’s cheek, “You should be proud this day.” The darkness in Clarke’s eyes reminded her of the first day her fyucha had come running into the camp without thought for the warriors, the drawn knives and worried eyes. She had come running to bleed for those she thought died for her and Asiya saw that same set of her body, the same darkness returned. “Don’t leave, nau bants fyucha.” She begged, “Yu gon hosa.”  
_Don’t leave child. You are home._  


“Emo hod Wanheda op, Asiya.” Clarke shook her head, “They will hurt you for me.”  
_They hunt for Wanheda._  


“No, Azgeda homplei Skaikru ogeda.” Asiya shook Clarke, trying to get her to understand what it could mean if she left. “Azgeda strat gon bos kongeda op, emo step klin on Skaikru kom tiem. Gon traders tel oso op.” She shook Clark once more for good measure. “Non klir gon bants Clarke. Non klir fyucha.”  
_No, ice nation hunt all sky people. They plan to break the alliance, they march on the sky people soon. The traders told us. It’s not safe to leave Clarke, it’s not safe child._  


Tears dripped down her face, glowing in the firelight as she tried to instill fear into her girl, to remind her of the dangers outside. Clarke couldn’t even hold a bow without panicking, how would she survive alone?  


Clarke froze, her mind slowing as all eyes turned to her. The moon was barely a sliver grinning down upon her as she was set upon once more. “It doesn’t matter.” She murmured, the choice was made for her. If Azgeda hunted skaikru, then she would be safe while her people suffered, or worse… Clarke looked around to the revelry happening around her, what if Azgeda came for Ingranrona? “I am skaikru no longer, but I can’t let them die Asiya.” She looked to her friend with steel in her eyes, and ice in her heart, “My gonplei ste nau odon.”  
_My fight is not over._  


Clarke stepped into their tent, leaving Asiya standing alone in the darkness. Clarke found the leather jacket that had survived her trek from Camp Jaha and pulled it on over the darkest leathers she owned, the brown and dark red were odd among the teals and yellows her people favored. There could be no chance that she would be seen, she would have to be invisible. If the alliance was going to fall, then there was no guarantee that the other clans would help them, there was no guarantee that… That the commander would even survive the coup. Clarke would need to end things herself.  


“You will need a weapon.” Asiya rasped, her eyes red, puffy and dry. She held out the bow she had offered Clarke nearly a month ago. When the blonde hesitated, Asiya spoke again. “Please, my daughter was never strong enough to bend it.” Clarke paled, “May her spirit guide your aim.”  


Clarke blanched, “I-I didn’t..”  


“You did not need that burden.” Asiya said, her face hard as she stalked forward, “But you are strong now, you are Wanheda, and my fyucha.” She was close enough that Clarke could feel the heat from her body pushing away the chill of the night air. “Jus drein, jus daun fyucha. You paid your blood, now it is time for Azgeda to pay their price. It is just.”  


“But your daughter, you helped me… All this time.” Clarke shook her head, beginning to fall apart again, her heart tearing at the seams. Had there been anyone that she did not hurt? Had she ever left anything but destruction in her wake?  


Asiya took Clarke’s chin into her hand, “Tanaka was my only daughter left, now you are my child too. The dead are gone Clarke.”  


Clarke trembled, “And the living are hungry.”  


Asiya pulled her into a tight hug, “Gouthru klir hashta yu soujon, hofli yu na hon bida chilnes yu op ona brana sonraun. Yu na ge mema we.”  
_Safe passage on your travels, may you find peace in your next life. You will be missed._  


Clarke took the bow in a trembling hand. She saw nothing but love and sadness in Asiya’s eyes, the same things that had been there since the moment she had arrived. It was time to return to the world she left behind. This time, when Clarke stepped out into the night she was welcomed by the faces of those who had come before. Anya, Finn, Wells… Her father. They waited by her horse, watching her breathe deeply the air of home. Savoring the sounds of joy and happiness. “Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotiem.” She whispered.  
_May we meet again._  


A sharp whistle pierced the night and Ashdaun came charging at Clarke, turning aside at the perfect moment for the girl to grab the saddle and swing up onto her mount’s back and race off into the darkness. Her mind set, she headed back towards the woods of her people, back to the life she had abandoned.


	3. Tree stalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke makes her first steps towards home. She's gotten really bad at talking to people. Really bad at saying hi too.

Clarke perched high in the tree, her body blending with the shadows as she watched the rovers heading out of camp on daily patrols. It was nearly time for her to move on, nearly time to end what she had started. She began to spread the black paste onto her face, dragging two fingers from the corner of each eye back to her blackened braids. Each braid small, carefully bound with all the others into a thick horsetail that would never be mistaken for that of Clarke kom Skaikru. 

Blue eyes glowed in the darkness, the only sign of her passage through the trees. 

As soon as she had crossed the plains, Clarke had left Ashdaun near the dropship, knowing that there was no way to move the way she had to with such a noticable animal. Only Ingranronakru claimed such beasts as their own, and she couldn’t make Asiya or the rest of the village vulnerable. 

If she truly had need, her whistle would call her faithful mount back to her side. Since that moment, Clarke had worked to master the trees themselves, moving from one to another the way she had seen Lincoln teaching Octavia so long ago and with Anya’s steps to follow, it was still clunky, but she learned enough to know which branches would break and which would hold. Courtesy of her newest bruises. Her eyes roved the camp of her people, looking to all the industrious workers moving about their tasks. She had picked out the wild mane of Octavia tending to a well built mount, Raven walking through camp stronger than ever. Monty and Harper holding hands as they strolled across the banks of the lake. It all seemed so mundane and peaceful, like any other clan village. Such fools to be so exposed with Azgeda on the move, did they even know they had yet another bounty on their heads? 

How long would it take for them to realize that a sturdy wall wouldn’t ever be enough to deter the enemy, that deterrents weren’t enough. Building towers and carrying guns would never be enough to save them. They needed information, spies and scouts in the woods, messenger lines to the other tribes. Their scouting missions were too obvious in those clunky rovers, crashing through the forests like pauna. 

Movement registered and her eyes flicked to the last truck moving out of Arcadia, this was her quarry. Clarke smirked when they turned north, just as she had seen every other night. They were too predictable, but it would serve her purposes. She pulled her hood down and leapt from branch to branch, making her way to the ambush point. 

Her newest injury pulsed whenever she had to catch a branch to steady herself, the imprint of bear claws leaking blood where the scab broke, it made her more clumsy. The quiver of the branches beneath her, the movement of small animals in the underbrush, gentle was the breeze that lifted the leaves from their resting places. Birds sang out their warning songs of intruders in the branches, but skaikru had not learned their music, had not learned from the 100 whose only warning system was the animals themselves. 

The rover pulled to a stop by the fallen tree, its roots weakened by Clarke, and then attacked by a rather ornery bear, it was as natural as she could devise. The driver got out of the rover, and three more poured out of the back, their rifles down. “Miller, eyes on the trees just in case. Rest of you get over here and push. We need to make it to sector 7 by nightfall, they can’t have gotten far.” Clarke frowned, following Miller as he began to meander away from the rover, his eyes glancing up occasionally. She remembered him from the dropship, he had been one of Bellamy’s goons back when it all had felt like war. He must have felt safe to stray so far from the others, but it served her purpose well. 

She began a controlled descent, dropping from branch to branch, out of his line of sight, drawing him around the tree with the sound of branches being disturbed. Clarke waited until he was beneath her and dropped with a thud, her knees impacting with his lungs, knocking his breath away before he could cry out. She lifted his face from the mud and put her knife to his throat, “Why do you move on Azgeda? Each day you grow closer.” 

He wheezed, trying to breath under her weight, “Who the hell are you? You attack one clan you attack them all.” 

She frowned, grabbing his hair to lift his head higher, the edge of her knife dangerously close to his throat, “Skaikru is no clan.” She growled. 

“We are the thirteenth clan.” He insisted, “Let me go and I won’t tell anyone.” He began to wiggle, trying to find a way to flip her. 

Clarke drew the tip of her knife along his throat, leaving a thin line of blood to bead on the surface, “Move again and I will kill you. Your friends will be next Skaikru.” She growled, keeping her voice low, “Why do you move on Azgeda?” 

“We aren’t.” He insisted, “We are searching for a few of our men, a squad was lost in the northern woods, and our scouts are searching for them. None of them have shown up with the other clans yet.” 

She scoffed, “Yu lukot gon stedaun. Azgeda nau kep in hunon.” Clarke shook her head, they were taking skaikru warriors to interrogate, the ice queen would never let them live if they gave her any indication of resistance. “Hod yu op tiya hosa skaikru. Azgeda step en klir. I’m sure you can find someone to translate.” To make sure her message was given the right level of significance, she drove her dagger through his thigh. It slid cleanly between the muscles, doing minimal damage. _Your friends are dead. Ice nation doesn’t keep prisoners. Stay in your walls sky people, Ice nation are marching._

His scream sent birds into flight beside Clarke as she ran for cover, darting between trees as she moved further and further from the shouting soldiers. When she was safe, she released a long breath. Her heart thrummed with adrenaline, pushing her to keep moving on her real target. Anya nodded to her and pointed north, reminding her of what must be done. “We don’t have long before Azgeda moves in.” Clarke muttered, standing back up and running for the dropship where Ashdaun waited. She could not sacrifice those captured for stealth, there would be time to hide later. 

She let out a whistle like the thrushes that lived in the grassy plains, its sound unfamiliar to the wildlife, but Ashdaun came at a meander, munching on leaves as she passed under Clarke. The girl smirked at her horse’s attempt to ‘play it cool’ and dropped to a branch just above to mount from. “Step klir Ashdaun, gon frag emo ogeda.” She patted the animal’s side and whistled for a canter, afraid of going any faster in the woods where roots and holes could cost them dearly. _Move carefully Ashfall, we are going to kill them all._

They wove through the woods threading between the trees with ease, avoiding the main roads. It was two days before Clarke had finally run out of food. She opened her satchel and growled, “I don’t have time to hunt for more damnit.” She lifted her head, looking around at the endless trees taking in all of her senses. The sound of the crickets calling their lovers, the breeze playing across her skin and tickling the leaves. 

The smell of roasting meat, and the distant glow of a fire. Clarke whistled and they were off in the direction of the camp. 

As soon as the small group came into sight, Clarke leapt off her horse, hands raised to show her friendship. Those around her bore no tribal markings, spies or nomads. “Ai laik Tanaka kom Ingranrona kru. Ai nau dina gon kamp raun.” She dug the bear pelt from her saddlebags, “Ai koff op?”  
_I am Tanaka of the Plains rider clan. I don’t have dinner to eat. I can trade?_

The others grinned and laughed, waving her over, “Kamp raun osir faya Tanaka kom Ingranronakru. Bitam dina gon choj oso op.” Clarke smiled, sitting with them, holding out her pelt to the man who had spoken. He waved his hands, “Keep it, it will be a better story with you. I am Cayson.”  
_Stay by our fire, there is plenty of food for everyone._

She nodded, “Thank you for sharing.” She carved a piece of meat off of the boar they had killed and ate it with a small hum of satisfaction. They allowed her to eat for a time before the others began whispering and staring, their smiles playful as they batted at each other. 

They finally shoved Cayson in front, waving him on. He laughed, “Talon and Micha think that because you are Ingranrona that you would have met Wanheda, they wish to hear stories.” 

Clarke’s body went numb, had word of her location traveled so far already? She pushed the feeling aside, “I am not good at telling stories.” She excused, trying to look ashamed of it. 

Their eyes lit up and they traded looks, Micha being the first to speak, “Then you have met Wanheda? What is she like?” 

Clarke’s heart sank as she looked at the three eager listeners, knowing that if she did not tell them something, then they would be suspicious. “Very well, but you cannot laugh.” She raised her eyebrows, waiting until all nodded solemnly. “She came to my village, her hair was golden like the grass, and it was long and unbraided. She came from the sky people, looking for rest from war.” 

They watched, enraptured already. Clarke took a deep breath and tried to remember how Asiya would tell stories of great warriors, “Where Wanheda walked, life remained the same, her steps never bent a blade of grass and she moved silent like the wind. Her presence was only known when she willed it to be so. When she arrived in N’breska she fell to her knees by a crater left by skaikru and fell to the ground as if dead.” The silence she learned from the phantoms she followed, it was not so implausible, not from a clanmate. It felt wrong to tell stories about herself like this, like she was someone to be admired. 

Talon grabbed Micha’s arm gasping in shock. “Wanheda was hurt, badly, but when she woke again all of her wounds were gone, she had willed them away.” If only it had been so simple, so easy to end her pain. 

“She entered the tent of our wounded, pushed the healer aside and began bringing them back from the brink of death, none died if Wanheda willed it to be so.” She felt the sweat and aches of the long days in the tent, teaching Liffecha how to make sutures and set bones, teaching him which herbs were the best for which ailments. It was an arduous process, but it had honed her abilities. “She was the greatest healer we had ever seen, and all the other villages brought their sick and their weary to us.” 

“Why are you not with Wanheda now?” Talon blurted, eyes wide in shock as his own lack of control, “It would be a great honor to live with her.” 

Clarke shook her head, allowing her sorrow and pain at the choices ahead bleed through, “Wanheda is gone. She has willed Ingranrona to live, but something happened, and she said,” Clarke too a deep breath, knowing that these words would travel to all the clans. “she said that wamplei ste kom snap gon az kwin. She has willed the death of the ice queen.”  
_Death is coming quickly for the ice queen._

The others gasped, and Cayson grinned from ear to ear, clapping excitedly, “You are truly the best spika I have heard in a longtime. You come with us and we will tell the story to everyone.” 

Clarke shook her head, “I came for Wanheda, not her story.” 

The others pouted, but Talon frowned, “If we find Wanheda, we will tell her you are looking for her.” 

Clarke smiled softly at him, knowing that would never happen, “Machof.”  
_Thank you very much._

He nodded, patting her shoulder, “You are lucky to have seen Wanheda.” He looked at the fire, then back to her, “Do you think she can beat the Azgeda?” 

A chill went down her spine as all eyes, there and not watched her. The moon seemed to push the clouds aside to see the words fall from her lips, and all the forest went still. “She will.” She had to. 

The words felt like rocks in a still pond, breaking the silence harshly, rippling around them and sending shivers through them all. “Good luck to you Tanaka, may you sing of Wanheda’s success someday.” Cayson murmured, all their moods dampened by the seriousness turn. 

Clarke nodded, touched by their faith in her, just as she hurt for the use of her false name. She didn’t know if she could look Asiya in the eye and tell her that she had pretended to be Asiya’s daughter, had told of herself like some kind of supernatural being. When she laid down to sleep, a young woman joined her silent sentinels, one whose eyes held the same likeness as Asiya and the youth of Charlotte. Tanaka was just as quiet as the others, but as Clarke looked into her eyes, she hoped it was approval she saw there. 

The group parted ways in the morning, the nomads giving Clarke extra food in return for the story that she had told them, insisting that it was the least they could do for the herald of Wanheda. Clarke finally had to accept the offer when she realized that no one would go their way until she had done so. It was with a smile that she bid them goodbye, unable to resist the cheerfulness that they embodied in their journeys. 

If only she could have had a life such as that, no responsibility, no choices to make except whether to camp here or over there. She had tried to do the same in N’breska but she found herself helping others, trying to make their lives better.  
_“You were born to lead them Clarke.”_

She pulled Ashdaun to a stop, the horse protesting the abuse on her soft mouth. Clarke stared in horror at the mossy green eyes of the woman who had abandoned her to be a monster, given her no other choice but to become the slayer of a mountain. “No, no you will not do this to me again!” She kicked Ashdaun into a run, headed for the main road through the forest. Clarke could not afford to let the commander get involved. It would be the end for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Clarke would rather get chased by an angry bear than walk into Arcadia and ask for the dish on their patrols. Bears are so much simpler than people right? A few scrapes, giant hunks of the shoulder gone, and then you just move on. People make you talk and ask questions and want to know where you've been, and why your new thing a Fulani braids.


	4. Home is a four letter word

Clarke lifted the bow and took a deep breath, the fletching caressed her cheek, threatening to turn sharp when she released her arrow, a stroke for a kill. It was a fair trade. Power thrummed through her veins, and Clarke remembered the feeling from a past life, the voices of hundreds vibrating in her bones. Pledging their lives to her, promising to go die where she told them to. Now she would fight her own war, no need for men, women and children to die, no need for massacres. It was time to make the right decisions. If az kwin wanted war, she would have it.

Her eyes opened and she loosed her arrow. It cut her cheek and sped through the air, as it fell so did she. Two thuds were softened by leaves. One a kill, the other her quarry. Azgeda scout, his lungs bereft of air. Clarke slammed the body of her weapon into his head, knocking him out cold. She snapped the fletching off her arrow to hide her origin and dragged the still breathing warrior away. He was heavy, but she had grown strong and the leaves were thick, rustling as she used them to help her drag her prize back to safety.

She tied him to a rock and splashed water on his face as soon as she was sure of the ropes. He lifted up his head, looking around to find some kind of landmark, some way to know where he was, then his eyes landed on Clarke and he struggled against the ropes. “No one will find you down here.” She gestured to the cave around him, weapons sheathed, “If you yell, they cannot hear you, if you fight, they cannot save you.” He narrowed his eyes at her, waiting to hear what she had left to say. “Good.” She nodded, “Now that you understand, I need to know where your army is headed.”

He glared daggers at her, “Skai kru gon foto, frag emo op gon az kwin.”

_ Sky people are evil, we will kill them for the ice queen. _

Sitting back on her haunches, Clarke tilted her head, “Chit hasta gon congeda?” He spat on the cave floor. “Jomp op skaikru, jomp op Heda.” It hurt to even say the title, her mind pushing Clarke to fall into old memories and despair.

_ What about the coalition? Attack sky clan, attack the commander. _

“Azgeda is strong.” He growled, “Heda is foolish to challenge Azgeda, she will pay for that.”

Clarke had what she needed, so she slammed her hilt into his head once more, ignoring his potential injuries from the impact. “So the queen will kill the coalition.” She sighed, “Gustus was right, we are more trouble than we are worth.” Clarke left the cave, careful not to alert the army just a few dozen yards away, “Now how about some damn directions.” The phantoms surrounding her were no help, knowing no more than she, or choosing to withhold it just to thwart her. It would not be the first time.

“HON DAUN DE HON OP! FRAG EMO!”

_ Hunt down the prisoners! Kill them all! _

Clarke dropped low, looking for the source of the commotion and saw three in black uniforms running for the woods surrounding the Azgeda army. They bore the silver symbols of the guard uniforms from Arcadia. The men tried to scatter as best they could but their hands were still bound, and the whole army was beginning to rouse themselves for the pursuit. She felt the betrayal, the choice being made before her. Clarke mounted Ashdaun and turned her south, away from the army, away from the sky people.

Beneath the rhythmic thudding of Ashdaun’s hooves, she heard three thuds that did not belong in the pattern. Three more red marks in Clarke’s thigh, staining her pants the darkest kind of black that seems to swallow the soul. Above her, the moon stood vigil.

Tears overcame her, forcing Clarke to stop or risk hurting them both. Lungs heaving for air that would not come, eyes begging for more moisture as they grieved, it was all she could do to stay on the horse, her head pressed against Ashdaun’s neck. She looked to her right, seeing the three stand beside her, all wearing their helmets, faces unknown, but still skaikru. “Jus drein, jus daun. You will have justice.” Clarke promised, ignoring the pain in her left leg and began moving again. She needed to find Polis before the army did. She needed some way to end this without losing more lives. She needed to find the damn queen.

She rode for Tondisi knowing that it was close to the capital, surely someone would help a lost Ingranronakru on their way.

 

Clarke dismounted as she reached the edge of the city, her weapons stashed in a tree where they could not be taken from her. Despite the destruction, the village had been rebuilt stronger than before and it was clear that Skaikru had something to do with it. There was evidence of welding, sturdier buildings, newer materials. It was the least they could have done after Clarke let them be bombed by the mounon. For just a moment, she wondered if Anya’s home had survived.

She sighed, moving through the village looking for someone familiar, a glance of his healer’s tattoos was all she needed. Clarke moved after him, waiting until he had ducked into his home, one of the few that had survived the bombing. It was dark inside, light filtering through grid screens over the windows, the smell of dust and medicine powders were strong. “Nyko kom trikru.”

He turned in surprise, his knife in hand before he had even begun thinking. “Chon go yu?”

_ Who are you? _

“Tanaka kom Ingranronakru, I am trying to get to Polis. My map is ruined.” She pulled the soggy piece of crap that she had taken from Miller, it was already soaked by the rain when she got it and nearly melted into mush. As it turns out, Ark materials weren’t made for the damp.

Nyko frowned, “Why come to me? I am the healer, the warriors would know better than I.”

“I am no warrior.” She smiled, wishing it were true with all of her heart. “I am our healer, I came to trade for herbs, but our last healer died to the skaifaya and none of the others knew the way. This map was all I had.”

He rubbed his neck, nodding, “I understand, come. I will show you.”

It was a short conversation, but valuable. Nyko had a deep understanding of the trails to the capital. Even if Clarke found one path blocked, she was sure she would find a way. “Here, a sign of my thanks.” She pulled the small satchel of medicines from her bag, it was something Liffecha had insisted she always carry. “They are not easy to find in trikru lands, but they are plentiful in mine.”

He opened it and touched the vials reverently, “Thank you.” He looked down at them again, “What will you trade for your medicines?”

Clarke laughed, “I have plenty. A bear tried to challenge me for my bed, I won.” 

His eyes widened and he smiled, nodding his respect, “Safe travels Tanaka kom Ingranronakru.” He offered her his hand and she clasped his forearm. It was warm and safe, reminded her of another life.

Ashdaun was ready to leave, stamping the ground when Clarke left the shack. She caught the horse’s head in her hand, blowing gently in his nostrils, calming him to the busy routine of the village. “Osir gonplei nau ste odon.” Another hour to reclaim her weapons and they left for the capital of the congeda. It was a ride that would last deep into the night, but she didn’t have time to waste, she needed to find the queen, kill her, and maybe her generals too. It was such a tangled web of tasks with such simple outcomes.

_ Our fight is not over. _

Clarke reached the boundary of Polis, found the tray for all weapons and sighed, it would be too easy to just let her ride into the damn city. She dismounted and slapped Ashdaun’s flank, knowing the horse would be safer in the forest alone than any of the hundred ever had been. “Just me then.” The darkness swallowed her. Wanheda moved like a phantom, flanked by her constant escorts, and shrouded with dark purpose.

She moved around the edge of Polis, searching for any sign of an entrance. She found it, a tunnel that led deep underground. All of it was poured concrete, cracked with age but strong. The smell of mold and disuse filled her nose, and her steps disturbed none other than the dust beneath her and the motes of air swirling in the moonlight. Rising from the depths of the earth, Clarke stepped into the darkened city and was amazed by what she saw. 

Ordered blocks and streets in rows and columns all surrounding the central point, the great tower of Polis, home to heda, a beacon that washed the city with the dim light of the great torch at its peak. It was a massive undertaking to even learn to navigate, let alone find one woman.

“Talk about ego.” She muttered, hooking her bow over her shoulder and gauging the outside. Perhaps she could find another with the information she needed? But would she find them as quickly... 

Though over fifty stories, there were no windows and the facade was crumbling. It was the perfect structure to climb, plenty of handholds and a place to rest every ten feet. “Bet she lives at the top of the damn thing.” Clarke walked to the tower, circling it for the best place to start and found a bloodsplatter on the ground. It was wide, spreading far enough that it wasn’t from someone getting stabbed, it was more like they fell.

This was the place. Only Heda would be so bold as to send a man flying off the top of a tower into the middle of a market without repercussion. Clarke began to climb, breathing deeply with each motion. Find a foothold, move hands, stand up. Find another, resettle her hands, stand again. The rhythm continued until the darkness began to fade. Finally the last balcony approached, and Clarke pulled herself up with shaking arms, sweat dripping down her neck. She looked in the window, but it was a throne room.

The only other rooms were an office with tables and maps, much like the war tent from.. From so long ago. The last was a bedroom, a broad sitting room lay by the window, a bed covered in heavy furs laying to the left, just barely in sight. Heda lay sleeping, brown hair a tangled mess across tanned skin, she was curled on her side facing away from Clarke. It was too peaceful a moment to break so Wanheda settled into the empty space where the window once lay and she waited.

The night turned pale, and Clarke wondered what she was doing there. The ice queen was not sitting in this tower waiting for her enemies to die, she was not in hiding with her ambassador or creeping through hallways like an assassin. She would be with her army, with the people that Clarke left behind. Where Clarke would be. Why was it always the commander she ran to? Could it not have been Asiya or Abby or even the nomads on their way through the forest. Was all of this just a ruse to see her commander again? To see Lexa?

This dark skinned warrior haunted her waking and dreaming world with that hard expression, that decision to sacrifice everything they had for her people. Clarke couldn’t do it, wouldn’t. Maybe she would have if Emerson had come to her, maybe she would have left Lexa to die with her people around the mountain. Not anymore. Maybe that’s why she came, to let Lexa be the one to decide who would live and die, to pass on the burden of her actions to the woman who let her bear so much.

Light crept across the room, climbing over furniture until it shined off bronzed skin spreading warmth. Heda stirred slowly, rubbing her eyes and humming quietly to herself. Clarke looked down, afraid to observe such a vulnerable point in Heda’s ritual. It hurt in ways that she could not explain to see such a quiet moment. Finally she could not spy any longer. “Don yu get in dei jos eni na enter hir? Em ste nou klir heda.”

_ Did you know that just anyone can walk in? It isn’t safe Commander. _

Heda spun, rising to her feet and a knife flew at Clarke’s head before she had even registered where Clarke was sitting. With a thud it landed in the book Clarke had found. She turned it in her hand, examining how deep it had embedded, a full inch of the blade sunken into the pages, cementing them together. “Bali.” She removed the blade and tossed the book aside. “Azgeda strat gon step klir on Skaikru, az kwin gonplei ste odon. Em no get em disha tiem.” Clarke looked up, meeting the shocked gaze of the commander, hair still mussed from sleep and mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

_ That’s a shame. Ice nation plans to march on Sky people, the ice queen’s fight is over. She just doesn’t know yet. _

Clarke sighed and got to her feet, walking over to Lexa, her heart pounding in her chest as she neared the woman, as Lexa tried to assemble her mask of calm. “You will catch flies Heda. We have work to do.” She placed the blade in Lexa’s hand, closing her fingers over the top.

“Clarke…” Lexa said, “What are you talking about?”

Her face was so open, so vulnerable, it hurt to look her in the eyes. To know that this soft faced child held the reins of armies, and the weight of their sins, it felt like the first days in the forest. “Wanheda has come.” She said, “It is time to show Azgeda what it means to war against congeda.”

“I don’t understand, Clarke, Azgeda may not be loyal to the Congeda, but they are not stupid enough to start a war.” Lexa protested. “I don’t know who has been telling you stories, but they lied to you.”

Clarke clenched her jaw, “Then it was your army that butchered three Skaikru? I watched them, saw their uniforms, I let them die so that I could…” So that I could see you again and let you tell me to go kill for you. So that I could panic and run to you for assurance. “Azgeda marches on Polis just as soon as they are done ridding the Earth of Skaikru, they march for your head, and you don’t even believe me.” It cut worse than any knife. Tired or not, she had depended on Lexa being there to make the decision. 

“What did you come here for Clarke?” Lexa stared at her, searching for some kind of understanding. “Why are you here?” She took everything else into stride, but it was Clarke standing before her, talking to her like nothing had happened at all that was so confusing. Clarke was supposed to be dead, or hiding among the plains riders if all the rumors were to be believed, not in her bedroom trying to protect her and her people. Clarke gave up on them, so what was she doing here?

Clarke looked away from her commander, biting back so many answers. To give you my burdens, to be weak. I came here because I thought you could be ruthless and send an army instead of me. I came because I am afraid of being Wanheda. Clarke’s eyes hardened in response to that thought, face set in determination. “Ai kom complei em head.” No one else could fight her battles, no one else could bear the burden of her decisions. Clarke left Ingranrona to protect herself from fighting for them. She left Skaikru for the same reason. She couldn’t leave again.

_ I came to take her head. _

Lexa nodded, seeing the fire in Clarke’s eyes return, seeing the strong woman who had saved her from Pauna return. “Then bring it to me.” The words were cold and unfeeling, but they held the same understanding of her decision as they always did. Perhaps she underestimated Lexa’s knowledge of the pain her choices caused. Clarke closed her eyes and turned back to the window, climbing out onto the balcony. Lexa did as she asked, taking on the responsibility of Nia’s death for her.

Clarke looked over her shoulder at the woman who had broken her heart, her will. There was so much suffering to go around, so many lives on both their accounts and now there would be even more. When will the death ever end? Is this what it means to survive?

Clarke stepped out onto the balcony and began her descent slowly, planning each step. A sharp inhale gave her pause and she looked up, impatient to leave. The compassion on Lexa’s face sent all that away, “Ambassadors are three floors down, Azgeda are on the other side of the tower. Start there.”

She couldn’t let all the death get to her, she couldn’t afford to be weak. Wanheda grinned, her teeth showing in a clear threat, “Yes Heda.” She disappeared from sight and Lexa released all the air she had held so desperately in her lungs. What had she done to this woman?

The aggression in Clarke’s eyes dimmed, the feral rage quelled as soon as it came, power was seductive and her heart longed for it. As her fingers clung to the rebar and concrete, moving her across the building as surely as her feet, Clarke knew that was the reason for her guilt. Not because it was wrong, not because it was evil, but because she wanted to hold the lives of others in her hand. Clarke wanted to be there next to Heda bending the world to her will, bending Lexa... Her body shook and her dedication wavered because she knew she could take it. Longing built in her chest until it felt that she would burst.

_ You could be the one your people look to, one they could give their hearts and souls to in the war. You were born to lead _ . 

Those words had burned themselves into Clarke’s heart and no matter what she did, she couldn’t ignore the allure of them.

When she dropped into the bedroom of the Azgeda ambassador. Adrenaline raced through her veins, blurring the lines of what was reasonable. She pulled her blade from her belt and pressed it to his neck, waking him with the chill of Ingranrona steel. His eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to yell. “Shhh, ai swis na slip. Weron ste Nia?” Barely a whisper, he heard the words and Clarke felt his pulse increase, the draw of her power increase. “Wanheda nau hod op.”

_ Shhh, my knife could slip. Where is Nia? The commander of death won’t wait. _

“Em-em gon kom wor.” He stammered, pointing out the window to the north.

_ She goes to war. _

Ice slid into the space where she once had a heart, just as her knife slid into his. “Yu gonplei ste odon natrona.” 

_ Your fight is over traitor. _

Clarke wiped her blade on his shirt and sheathed it. It was time for her descent to the city. Light crept down the tower, moving faster than Clarke could and lit her way, but it also made her a target for the guards standing watch. If anyone looked up to the tower while she was scaling it, things could go very poorly for the story of Wanheda. She could not simply will every archer in the city to miss.

Luckily or maybe not so luckily, Heda and her entourage left the tower on the other side. Chanting of “Heda” began to echo between the buildings. An unearthly sound that always brought shivers down Clarke’s spine. She didn’t understand how Lexa could hear such a thing and be calm, the chants of their people, their songs and stories had always brought such life and energy that Clarke could rarely sit through them. She had to move, to march, to fight. There was power in the people that skaikru had never been able to muster. A dedication to surviving, no matter the cost.

Once she was on the ground, it was easy to avoid notice. Her leathers made her look like one of the guards, and she moved outside the crowds with confidence in her mission. First she would cripple the army, then she would cut off its head. All she needed to do was get there.


	5. The familiar taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has a job to do, and honor has nothing to do with it. Picking fights, chase scenes, thickening plots, and at least two tears await.
> 
> Just a warning, there is some mildly explicit content at the end of this chapter. There is conversation at the end that is plot important.

Azgeda were used to snow covered pines and the large scarce animals of the far north. They scared the birds and squirrels, could not blend in with their surroundings and they could not stay cool through the heat of the day. So it was that Clarke found them sitting around, resting and talking as they drank from their water barrels to pass the noon hour. They were practically asking to be overtaken. She had to move quickly if she was going to take advantage of their heat driven stupor. Clarke wasted no time in gathering as many of the Jobi nuts as she could find.

The mortar and pestle she kept in her saddlebags made easy work of crushing up the overripe nuts into powder. Clarke stored the powder into a bag around her neck, knowing that she had enough to drive the whole army mad, to kill nearly a third of it, more if they took more than a cup or two. Weapon in hand, Clarke needed only to find a way into the camp. She climbed halfway up a large oak near the edge of the camp, right by one of the patrols and tapped the flat of her blade against a stone, the clicking noise felt wrong in the woods. Hopefully even Azgeda would know that.

Eternity seemed to pass her by as she tapped her stone. Click click click. Wait. Click click. Wait. Click click click. There. A branch snapped beneath her, under the foot of a tall Azgeda guard. Clarke took a breath and dropped. The motion was so practiced that she never thought it could go wrong.

The guard let out a wheeze as he thumped to the ground, and his companion stared at Clarke in horror and ran for the camp, “WANHEDA!” The blood drained from her face and she bent quickly, drawing the knife over the fallen guard’s throat. She ran. Horns sounded the alarm. The army rose and gave chase, smashing through the woods like pauna, leaving behind a trail of destruction that would leave its mark for years. Clarke sprinted for cover, diving behind a tree and scrambling up the sides as quickly as her panicked body could manage.

Heart pounding and blood boiling, she felt so alive she wanted to laugh, even as she knew that a single sound would turn her into a porcupine of arrows. She could not hide forever, she would have to move eventually or the army would find her. Clarke pulled out her knife and made another mark on her thigh, waking herself with the pain. You are still alive, so do something it said. The eyes of her phantoms watching.

She leapt to the right onto a thick branch and ran above the heads of the army, their noise more than covering the slight sounds that she made as she moved. There were hundreds roaming the woods for her, shouting to one another. As she moved the shouting intensified, drawing her eye to an imperious woman giving out orders like it was her one and only day job.

Not even Lexa demanded such swift obedience, cutting down those who would hesitate. This was the woman who had hurt Lexa, time and again, threatened skaikru, and now threatened all of the congeda. This was the head of the snake. Clarke notched an arrow and drew it back to caress her cheek, “Tanaka, guide my arrow.”

She felt the wind lift her braids, tugging so gently as it would to her arrow. The shadows and how they played with her mind and told her it was not so far to the az kwin. Clarke inhaled power, and exhaled control. “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

The arrow flew straight and unerring. Nia cut her orders short with a stunned look as the arrow grew from her chest like a tree. Its roots binding her body as the destruction took hold. She crumpled.

“For Heda.” Clarke reminded herself, wielding the power in the name of peace, in the name of Lexa, who would not use it for harming the innocent, who would not use it like Clarke did. Turning back to the shadows, she looked for her next targets, the warchiefs with their giant furry mantles and loud voices. The same thing that had drawn her to Nia. Clarke ranged through the trees, and for each chief she killed, another dozen of their arrows were wasted on the branches. The army changed their direction, and those who could climb did so.

After killing only four warchiefs it was getting harder to move undetected, and Azgeda were moving closer to her location. It’s now or never. Clarke dropped a few dozen feet lower, moving much closer to the heads of the Azgeda, knowing that they were trying to find her in the treetops. She circled north to their original camp, ignoring the stragglers that were searching more carefully, that didn’t know the queen’s fate.

The field was guarded by only a few, and the light of the day was beginning to dim as the shadows of dusk began to play across the treeline. Shadows that had always been kind to Clarke. Grass didn’t bend beneath her feet, body did not cut through shadow but sway with it. The evening’s chill matched the ice in her veins, and her duty was nearly over. The sentinels stood watch for someone moving in the trees, someone looking for a fight. They did not look for the shadow that traveled among the grasses. Not for the shadow of death.

The barrels would be emptied upon the army’s return, they would be tired and thirsty from their work. Clarke settled the unrest in her soul and began to sow the seeds of dissention. The powder fell into the water and tinted the warm liquid a light yellow. She gave it a stir with her blade and moved on to the next.

When all had been tainted, Clarke made for the eastern edge of the field, knowing that few would look for her there. She moved under the gaze of the rising moon, and knew that she was not done yet.

Standing sentinel in the forest, back presented to Clarke like a practice dummy, he muttered to himself about the unfairness of his treatment, the lack of respect for his accomplishments. “Trusted, she doesn’t even trust me to stand guard.”

Clarke moved up behind him, recognizing the complex scars on his cheeks as that of a high standing warrior, another warchief perhaps. “I wouldn’t either.” Clarke whispered, her cold knife pressed to his throat. His body tensed in preparation and she let the knife slice his flesh just enough to bloody it. “I would not do that. I can’t imagine you want to spend the last hours of your life hallucinating, it’s not a pleasant sensation.”

He stilled, “Don’t. If you kill us all then the new king or queen will be required to declare war on you and anyone you claim as your people. It would be the same thing again, but our whole nation would rise against you.”

“Ai get em Azgeda, jus drein jus daun dei ste oso edei. Chit yu tryna spika gona?” Clarke tightened her grip on the sentinal’s arm.

_ I understand Azgeda, blood must have blood that’s our way. What are you trying to say warrior?  _

He straightened, “I am no gona. Check my back.”

“Yu step au, ai wan yu op.” She warned, intrigued by his claims. Clarke took a step back, the point of her blade still digging into the back of his neck and she used her free hand to remove the straps on the back of his armor. The heavy leather dropped to the ground and she grasped the fabric of his shirt. “Brace yourself.” She growled, ripping the shirt away from his back.

_ If you move, I will kill you. _

“Chit ste disha?” She snapped, looking at the thick scar lines on his back, weaving itself into a tree of some kind. It was more complex than anything she had ever seen on an Azgeda.

_ What is this? _

Roan looked over his shoulder at her, surprised to see that his captor was a woman, grimacing as another line was cut in his flesh by her blade. “It is the insignia of the royal line. No one but those of the crown would dare wear these scars.”

Clarke scoffed and kicked his knees out from under him. He gave a yelp and fell on his face taking away his chance to attack her, “Of course Azgeda would do this to their kings and queens.” She stared down at the man on the ground, far enough away that he couldn’t take her legs out, but close enough to throw her knife if it came to it. “I suppose that makes you king now doesn’t it? Do you have a name king?”

He rolled to his back and looked up at Clarke, “If I am allowed to live, I would be King Roan of Azgeda, the once exiled prince.”

“What a mouthful.” She snarked, “And what will you offer for your life King Roan?”

“My kingdom.” He replied easily, “Nothing matters if I am dead, kings and fools share the same pyres Wanheda. I will be in your debt, and Azgeda pay their debts.”

Clarke sized him up, watching the passive way that he accepted her power in this situation, the respect in his eyes. She imagined that he would not be so passive the next time she tried to kill him. “I suggest you find yourself loyal to Heda, or next time I will not leave you so uninjured.” She knelt and stabbed Roan in the thigh, the same place as Miller actually, “Enjoy the hangover King Roan.”

She walked away from the camp while cleaning her blade of the blood and poison. She was finished today. From the trees she watched the soldiers begin to return to their camp exhausted and angry with their failure. A procession carried the bodies of the queen and her warchiefs to the center of the clearing and began their rites for the dead.

Water was passed around, drinking heavily as they attempted to recover from their exertions. It was less than an hour before some of the Azgeda began to duck their heads, darting across the camp, their movement was without purpose, some sprawling on the grass and rubbing their hands in it like a soft carpet.

Clarke’s first arrow flew through the chest of one of the soldiers running through the camp and all hell broke loose. They were too panicked to figure out where the arrow came from, but anyone with a bow became a target. The army began ripping itself apart from the inside. Clarke kept watch over them all, piercing her thigh for each of the gonas that fell to the ground. Each time the chaos nearly died down, Clarke would send another arrow into their midst, starting the screaming and accusations again. Extreme paranoia had never been so useful.

By the end, she had another four hundred and twenty-six marks going all the way down her left thigh, bringing out a minor limp in the way she walked. The last dozen or so she had to shoot down as she walked across the battlefield, power laced with guilt thrumming through her veins.

She had enjoyed it. As much as she tried to pretend it was just business, or some kind of adrenaline rush, Clarke could still feel their screams in her ears. Blood was puddled in the grass inches deep in some places, and instead of feeling bad about it, she only wondered what it would have felt if she had been the one to slit all their throats. It was all so repulsive... What had she become?

Clarke picked her way through the bodies, tears streaming down her cheeks as she fought with her base desires. Finally at the center of the clearing she found the body of Nia, already prepared with the oil for burning. It would be sacrilege to do anything but burn the body, and Clarke found a great deal of enjoyment in that as she sawed off Nia’s head.

“For Lexa.”

 

The fire burned with great intensity, flames reaching above her head and pushing her back from the edge to avoid being singed by it all. Clarke sat on a log and watched the joyous dance of fire across the wood, leaving footprints of ash in its wake. Her new marks had dried nearly an hour ago. The darkness around her was as comforting as any tent. The silence as familiar, broken by the footsteps of the one she waited for.

“I am sorry it was not a painful death. Nia deserved worse.” Clarke tossed a handful of pine needles into the flames, marking the brief flash of green. “The army fell this afternoon.”

Lexa stood behind her, and even without seeing, Clarke could feel the presence of the commander’s mask. The calm facade that only seemed to break when Clarke became too passionate. Too angry. She looked to the phantoms gathered around her, the same three every time. Anya, Finn and her father. “Anya would be proud of you Heda. Gustus too. Congeda is stronger than ever with a thirteenth clan.”

“They do not like their station yet, they feel that they are owed blood for the events at mount weather, for my betrayal.” Lexa’s words were filled with the weight of her responsibility, “All of Congeda suffers from the consequences of my choice that day.”

“Children.” She scoffed, “Mount weather was an impossible situation. More would have died if you had not forced my hand.” Clarke drew her fingers across her shoulder, reminding her shaking fingers that it was over, that those ghosts had laid to rest.

“It was cowardly.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

Lexa inhaled sharply, “What happened to you Clarke?”

“I began choosing again Heda. Like you said, I am born for it.”

Lexa knelt before Clarke, the fire dancing behind her, darkening her face even as her hair glowed around her head. She placed her hand on Clarke’s chin, lifting her eyes. The was no reaction, only the stare of a dead woman into the eyes of someone who longed for something, a sign of anything. “Why are you not angry Clarke?”

“Nia’s head.” Clarke tossed the bag at Lexa’s feet without regard to the question. She would always owe something more to her people, would always be there to protect them. There was no point in worrying about Lexa choosing the same path. Their people would always come first. “You should send word that they are safe to leave Arcadia again, I made it clear they were to bunker down.”

Pain threatened Lexa’s sight as she watched this emotionless display, “Where will you go?”

Clarke pretended she couldn’t hear the echo of the past, of their march to the mountain. “I can not think about the future, only the next step.”

“Stay.”

It tore at her resolve, brought tears to her eyes and finally Clarke could not keep her walls up any longer. She looked into Lexa’s eyes, truly looked at the pain and the longing that were there. The worry. She closed her eyes and brought her hand up to Lexa’s cheek. Breath hitching when full lips touched her palm. It was heaven hanging precariously over an endless hell. If she opened herself up again, what would be left when it was all over? How much of her soul would remain if she walked down this rabbit hole again.

“Heda-”

“Say my name.”

Blue eyes opened, glassy with tears, “Lexa-” There was nothing to say, no excuse or reason, no anger, just fear. “I can’t.”

“Stay with me.”

Heaven held itself closer, moving their lips against her hand, reminding her of what could have been so long ago. Clarke’s head spun as she tried to think what to do, what she had left. All she found was the tension spreading between them, the desperation to be loved, even for just one night.

There was only one way that she could bring herself to leave. The flames of hell licked at her soul in anticipation, waiting to torture her again. Clarke slid to her knees in front of her goddess and pulled her into a kiss.

Guilt slid through her veins but Lexa’s hand on her neck, pulling her closer, pulling a whimper from her lips.

It was slow and gentle, both exploring their most forbidden desire. Clarke’s arm slid around Lexa, bringing their bodies flush. Heat overwhelmed them as sweet kisses grew more desperate.

The hour was late, and neither would admit how soon they would have to leave. They lost themselves in each other. Hands and eyes exploring every scar and tattoo, drawing sweet sighs tinged with the bitterness of a goodbye. Clothing fell to the side and it was with silent reverence that they admired one another.

Each kiss, every touch was goodbye. Tears leaked from Clarke’s eyes as she worshipped Lexa’s body, knowing that she would never see it again, never feel the perfection of their lips moving together. Never again hear the soft whimpering gasp that begged her to be taken, to be owned, to be loved.

When Lexa had finally succumbed to exhaustion, Clarke grimaced in pain. Delicate hands clung to her arm so sweetly she never wanted to leave, never wanted to have to pry them off. She looked down at the childlike face that was so peaceful in sleep. This woman was everything. Clarke had killed and maimed and tortured, and forced her friends and family to do so much all to please this woman. All to bring the slightest smile to a face burdened with worry. Clarke had killed Finn. For her.

It was never enough. This life was supposed to be about more than just surviving, but Clarke couldn’t even bring herself to do that much. Lexa deserved so much more than what she had to offer.

Clarke sat up, breathing deeply as she tried to enter the place of calm that had carried her from N’breska all the way to Polis, but it wouldn’t happen. She felt the chill of the night air wicking the sweat from her back, the tiny warmth of Lexa’s hand on her hip. The shadows dancing with the fire around them, celebrating the victory of tonight. Her hands shook with the guilt of her actions.

No matter how many lives she saved, she would always end more. For skaikru. For Heda. “Not yet. Please.” It was a broken whisper into the darkness that cut deeper than any blade.

She turned around and laid back down on the furs, staring into the flame as Lexa hid her face in the crook of Clarke’s neck. Pale fingers ran down bronze skin, soothing her lover as a trembling note filled the air. 

_ Kom ogeda money dei ai don                          _ _ \- Of all the money that I’ve kept _

_ai spent em raun os kru_   _\- I’ve spent it around good people_

_ ogeda gon foto ai don                                    _ _ \- Of all the bad that I’ve done  _

_em foutaim gon non ba ai_ _\- It was to only me_

_ gon ogeda ai don laik nou wit                        _ _ \- Of all I’ve done for lack of wit _

_ai na nou, mema in_                                         _\- I cannot now remember it_

_ fill gon ai don drein draun                              _ _ \- Fill to me, the parting glass _

_ sheidgeda en shanen glon’ oso op                 _ _ \- Goodnight and joy be with you all _

 

Clarke pretended she couldn’t feel the hot tears on her shoulder, or the shaking girl in her arms, she pretended she couldn’t feel at all. “Ai hod yu in.” She sighed, not even hearing the words herself, but feeling them with every cell in her body.

_ I love you _

“It is time for me to go Heda. It is a long ride to the plains.” Clarke murmured, rubbing Lexa’s shoulder gently, trying to urge her to move.

“No.” The tearfilled word cut through the night. Lexa threw her leg over Clarke and straddled her, holding her down against the ground, “No.”

Desperate lips pressed against Clarke’s, pushing past her defences. Lexa took what she wanted, plundering Clarke’s mouth with lips and tongue. The blonde could only oblige her. Whimpering, begging for more.

It was everything she wanted and more. Lexa kissed down her neck, sucking and biting at the pale skin, owning her body, sending shivers of pleasure through her and a desperate need for more.

Strong hands palmed her breasts, Clarke arched her back with a moan, begging to be touched. She laced a hand into soft brown locks and pulled Lexa back up to be tasted once more.

Nothing compared to Lexa. There was nothing but Lexa. Clarke rolled them over, taking everything she could. “Ai hod yu in.” She whispered, ignoring the pain that came with it. The inherent goodbye that always lay between them.

_ I love you. _

Lexa cried out, her nails digging deep into Clarke’s skin, holding them together in a way that could never last.

Her hold loosened.

Their hearts slowed in tandem.

Clarke laid back down.

“It was still goodbye.” Lexa turned, pressing her face to Clarke’s shoulder, her small body shaking under the weight of her pain, “Why even do this if you’re going to leave? Why torture me with what could have been?” She brought her fist down on Clarke’s shoulder.

No answer.

She looked up through tear filled eyes that began to color with rage. “Why are you here Clarke?” She hit the blonde again, bringing more force this time as she sat up, “Is this my punishment for leaving you? Is this how you will break me?”

Clarke watched her. Accepted the rage, hoped that it would ease her departure.

“Answer me!” Lexa fists rained down on Clarke’s torso, leaving bruises on the pale skin.

She received nothing in return. Not even pain.

Lexa fell back, looking at her lover stare into the sky, accepting whatever Lexa chose to do with her. She could drag her back to Polis, but that would only bring her pain to watch Clarke waste away like this, hurting herself in retribution. Why couldn’t they just go home. Why did they always have something in the way?

The night began to fade into dawn, but neither moved. Lexa watched Clarke stare at the stars, wondering which would be the first to break the silent vigil.

It was the commander that stood, pulling her clothes back on and rebraiding her tangled hair.

“I can’t.” Clarke whispered. Lexa’s eyes snapped to Clarke and she waited, still as a statue, as the phantoms. “I can’t have you haunting me too.” She rested a hand on her side, on the thick ropy scar that had worried Lexa in the night, but she didn’t have the heart to ask, just like all the others. “This is Finn.” The tears came unbidden.

Lexa understood. In that moment the scars and the desperation that hid just beneath the surface of Clarke’s every action made sense. She remembered the sluggish bleeding from Finn’s side as Clarke had stepped away from his corpse, bleeding from the same spot as Clarke’s scar. The idea of owning her kill marks had once whispered in Lexa’s mind as well, but the guilt was too much, the pain of facing each death would have broken her. Broken her the way it was clearly breaking Clarke.

“He still follows me, they all do. I can’t see for all the bodies in the way, I can’t see past the souls I have taken, and the children I have murdered.” She finally looked at Lexa, “I can’t live knowing that I’ve killed you too.”

Lexa sank to her knees beside Clarke, trying to ignore the tiny lumps that covered her lover’s body, the inflamed lines of red that speckled her left leg. The implication of each mark. “Clarke.” She cupped her cheek tenderly, “If you leave, you will kill me more surely than any arrow.” The blonde sucked in a deep breath, and Lexa continued, “Come with me to Polis, we will figure something out.” She promised, “No expectations. Tonight will be enough.”

Clarke nodded, looking down at the furs. She reached for her shirt. Lexa waited for her to confirm her plan, unbreathing. “I will not deny you Heda. I never could.”

Heda allowed a small smile to grace her lips. The words worried her, but the sentiment was sweet. She ran her fingers through the tight braids around Clarke’s head, it had been what gave her pause when she first appeared, “Is this what you will look like when we return?”

Sure fingers fumbled on the laces of her pants. “I suppose I cannot be Wanheda if my hair does not glow like the golden grains of my people.” She scoffed.

“What?” Lexa tilted her head, already lost.

“Tanaka kom Ingranronakru is a spika for Wanheda now, on a journey to find her.” Clarke shook her head, “Fat lot of good it will do her.”

Lexa pursed her lips, trying to hold back the worry and the sadness. How much of Clarke’s life was a mystery? Who are her people now? “Perhaps Wanheda is on a journey of her own. Searching for the girl she has lost.”

“And who is that?” Bitter words and sharp movements spoke a great deal. Dark hair tossed over her shoulder, and once bright eyes stared daggers.

“Clarke kom Skaikru.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, thank you guys so much for your comments and support and I'm so sorry for not posting yesterday, my internet went insane and wouldn't do anything for me.  
> I hope this chapter answered your questions and raised some new ones.  
> At this point I feel like Clarke is both angry at Lexa for abandoning her, but also recognizes the power in an honor-less deed, something that she is going to push herself to avoid in the future. She's learning that 'whatever it takes to survive' isn't always the right option, and now Lexa gets to deal with Crazy Clarke trying to prove that.  
> I'll let you know now, I already have the whole story written, it's just going through last minute edits. My plan is to post a chapter a day sans the weekend. I'm also working on 2-3 new stories right now so I might have enough that I start posting those after I finish putting up this one. I'm enough of a procrastinator that I like to have a story mostly or all done before putting it up.


	6. A False Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke tries to insert herself into life in Polis and both she and Lexa struggle to find a comfortable middle ground within their new dynamic.

“Welcome warriors of the thirteen clans.”

“Hail commander of the blood.”

Clark felt their voices vibrate through the floor into the antechamber. Won’t be long now. “I called you here for two reasons. The first, to recognize King Roan of Azgeda. Step forward.”

Roan is here. She didn’t see him walk in, nerves maybe. Finn smirked at her. The ceremony took forever, all of the different clan leaders talking and welcoming him into the congeda, questioning his motives and decisions. 

How did he survive, was he going to call for blood over his mother’s death. Finally the question everyone had been waiting for. “Who is responsible for the destruction of the Azgeda army?”

The tension made the air in the room thick, Clarke could just imagine all of the eyes on him, his hand falling to his waist where the bandages would be thick enough to cause an outline. Roan would stand tall, “Wanheda killed the natrona Nia, and those loyal to her rule.” Clarke nodded, pleased that he did not break their deal. Messengers were always a risky business.

Whispers broke out, “Wanheda?”

“Who the hell is Wanheda?” That voice was familiar enough

“Where is she now?”

“En pleni.” Lexa’s voice broke through the chaos, “Our second order of business, is to welcome Wanheda home. Maunon ripa.”

_ Enough. Mountain killer. _

That was her cue. Clarke straightened her bodice, smoothing her hands down the brightly colored dress, it was the blue and reds of her people, draped loosely enough to conceal the knife she kept on her person. Close enough around the neck to hide the worst of her scars. Her arms were a different matter, swirling lines of dots that seemed to overlap each other. She hadn’t meant to make a pattern, but in the end it reminded her of starry night.

Can’t keep delaying the moment Clarke. She opened the door and all the whispers stopped. Head held high, eyes trained on Heda, she strode to the center of the room and bowed down without hesitation, “Ai liek Wanheda kom Ingranronakru. Ai badan yu klin, Lexa kom Trikru. Ai badan yu congeda.”

I swear fealty to you, Lexa of the tree people. I serve your coalition.

Though her face remained stoic, Lexa’s eyes sparkled with mirth mocking Clarke for being so proper and courtly in her treatment. It was such a huge shift from the girl who came barging into her war tent and challenged her generals for duels. Someday. The amusement faded, maybe someday she could have a part of that fire back. “I accept your fealty. Stand with your people.”

Her people? Clarke looked around the room. The ambassador from Ingranronakru stood waiting with his bright colors and friendly smile. Skaikru held themselves back, Kane standing in front trying to withhold his disbelief at her return. Lexa waited patiently for her to choose. Clarke walked to Lexa’s dais. The guards lifted their weapons, but the commander stopped them with a raised hand, her eyebrow twitching in a silent question. Clarke walked up two of the three steps and turned, kneeling at the commander’s feet.

There was a moment of uncertainty as all waited for the commander’s reaction, Clarke most of all. She was unable to see Lexa’s face, but when she spoke it was clear she was pleased. “Are there any more matters of business?”

There was a murmur of general assent, and she waved her hand, “The clans are dismissed.”

Ambassadors and gona alike spoke with each other as they filed out of the room. Ingranronakru smiling at Clarke as they left to let her know that no feelings had been hurt by her choice, as a people they were the most easy going, the most forgiving. Skaikru stayed behind. Kane trembled with eager energy, waiting no longer than the door beginning to swing shut before he rushed forward to Clarke.

The guards lifted their weapons even faster than before, spearheads pressed to his throat. It was a touching defense, one Wanheda was happy to allow, but Lexa waved her hand once more, “Wanheda can defend herself Ryder.”

Clarke rose to her feet, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt. Perhaps she should work on getting a chair.  “Kane.”

Her brusque tone damped some of his enthusiasm, but he still held out his arm with a relieved grin. She hesitated, happy to leave him hanging but then she saw the brand, the mark of Heda. It seems they both had painted their bodies with responsibility. They clasped forearms in the classic greeting, but when she would have released him, Kane pulled her into a hug. “You have been missed.”

Clarke pulled away, shaking her head. “That girl is gone Kane, don’t expect me to come back to Arcadia.”

“Legend has it you already did. Miller’s just fine by the way.” She quirked her head, “We had some nomads who came telling stories about Wanheda, the woman who walked side by side with death. After you escaped, Miller put the dots together.” Kane smiled, “Never thought it would be you though Clarke.”

Of course it would be her. “Then you do not understand the name.” Turning to the commander, she bowed stiffly and stalked out of the room.

“Give her time Kane.” Lexa sighed, “She is still paying the price for my mistakes.”

He took a deep breath, “I will have to tell Abby, she would never forgive me if I kept this from her.”

Lexa clasped her hands behind her back and nodded, “That is acceptable, but you must make her understand that if she does not honor Clarke’s wishes, then I will.”

“Of course.” Kane nodded, leaving for his quarters to begin writing his letter.

 

As soon as Clarke made it to her room she tossed her bright colors aside, standing before her mirror and looking at the pale shadows across her skin, the scars on her chest were so thin they could have been from acne or scratching her bugbites. The ones on her thigh were still red and irritated, reminding her of her recent kills. It was time to treat them again. She sat down and pulled her medicinal kit out of her saddlebags and put together the poultice Asiya had used so long ago. It almost didn’t feel real.

The door opened, “Oh, am I interrupting?” Lexa was so unsure, drawing Clarke’s gaze.

“Now she’s shy.” She joked, stirring the paste until it was just the right thickness and smell.

“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind.” She chided, drawn by the odd play of light and shadow over Clarke’s skin. Their time by the bonfire had been so rushed and desperate that her mind had glazed over the details. Details like the seemingly permanent goosebumps on Clarke’s skin, like the subtle blue dye that traveled down Clarke’s nose and over her brow.

Wanheda sat still as a statue, awaiting Lexa’s inspection of her skin. She did not have to wait long before the commander’s eyebrows furrowed and light touches became firm, “What is this?” Lexa put out her hand, her fingers dragging over the rough bumps of so many hundreds of scars that swirled around Clarke’s arms and chest, hidden by her chest wrap only to continue down her stomach on the other side.

Feeling Heda’s frantic search for untouched skin, Clarke waited for Lexa to finish panicking before she said anything, letting herself be manhandled. Lexa made Clarke turn around, gasping softly at the sheer number of them all, “What did you do?” She ran a gentle hand up Clarke’s spine, feeling each raised bump, some bigger than the others. And up to Clarke’s neck where the scars were no more, but instead an image of a bird had been forced into her skin with needles instead of a clumsy knife.

“I paid my debts to the dead. Blood for each life I have taken.”

Unsettled, Lexa tapped Clarke’s neck, finally seeing where the black wingtips curled around to settle just under Clarke’s ears. “And this?”

“Before the end of the world, owls were a symbol of wisdom and death. Silent hunters.” Clarke scoffed, “I hoped that one day I might be more than just a killer in the night.” She went back to grinding her poultice.

Her assumption was correct, but Lexa had no idea how to help Clarke from the downward spiral of acknowledging her choices. “May I?” Clarke held it up to Lexa, turning to the side so that her injured leg pressed against Lexa’s knees.

Lexa dipped her fingers in the paste and smoothed it over pale skin, putting an even layer of the light green over cream skin. A sharp chin came to rest on Clarke’s shoulder and she sighed, relaxing under the gentle ministrations. “Thank you.” Quiet but sincere.

“I would not have done anything else.” Lexa’s eyes shone with so much emotion, she didn’t know if she should be happy to have Clarke or broken to have her like this. Though Clarke allowed her help, her presence there was still the feeling that she had trapped her here, forced her to come out of guilt and obligation.

“Still. Machof.” Clarke removed Lexa’s hand from her thigh and cleaned it with a cloth. The movement was so routine, so mundane that there was just a moment before she covered up the surprise, taking her hand back and clearing her throat. Wanheda’s smirk was small but present. “I must dress. I can’t spend all day like this.”

A toss of brown hair and an imperious sniff were her reaction, “I don’t see why not.”

Clarke got off the bed with a raised eyebrow, “Den yu nou gifa in taim ai granplei ai swisa kom yu gonas dise?”

_ Then you will not care if I practice my sword against your warriors like this? _

To the untrained eye, Lexa hadn’t reacted at all. Clarke had seen her strained, frustrated, stuck in some of the most precarious situations while negotiating for skaikru. She saw the way that Lexa’s skin tightened, her jaw worked to stay unclenched, and the dig of blunt nails into flesh. “Ai nou vout in.”

_ I didn’t think so. _

Her smugness did not go unnoticed, but Lexa couldn’t very well agree to let Clarke flaunt herself for all to see. Not only was it a sure way to lower her standing, but the commander had a strong feeling that it would bother her far more than it would bother Clarke. “You have changed quite a bit.”

“Privacy was a privilege on the ark, carefully protected. It was an old habit to remain covered, one quickly overcome when I had to strip constantly for Asiya.” She raised an eyebrow at the annoyed huff from Lexa, “To care for my infection.” She never expected to see Lexa so upset over something like that.

Clarke pulled Lexa up from the bed and held her close, her body thrumming with heat, “No one will see me the way you see me.” She cupped Lexa’s cheek, kissing her softly. Heat bloomed into desire, but she held it back. Their lips fit together perfectly, moving together as if it had always been this way, as if  _ they _ had always been this way. “Ai badan yu klin Lexa kom Trikru. I am yours.”

_ I swear loyalty to you Lexa from Trikru. _

Their eyes closed and Lexa rested her forehead against Clarke’s, “I am not used to sharing anything that is mine.” She admitted, trailing her fingers up Clarke’s waist, “I am not keen to learn with you.”

Shivers traveled down Clarke’s spine and she caught Lexa’s hand in hers, “Heda,” The breathy whisper drew a sound of desire from Lexa, “It would not do to have our commander so distracted.”

“What if I want to be distracted?”

Clarke bit her lip, steeling herself. “Then I won’t be the one to do so.” Taking a large step bag was a significant help with the heady presence of the commander, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to spend the day exploring Lexa’s body in great detail. To escape her duty in the body of the one woman she wanted.

Instead it reminded her that like this they were both vulnerable, Clarke didn’t think that love was weakness in itself, but loving Clarke.. That was Lexa’s weakness. “Now show me this elevator of yours.” She muttered, stalking out of the room before they could distract each other any longer.

Lexa seemed equally bothered by the decision, leading the way to the center of the tower. The guards outside their door followed silently, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, they knew that something had put their commander into a bad mood. Lexa spoke into  a tube for them to be moved to the ground, and in a few moments they began the descent. Clarke reached out to the wall to steady herself on the initial lurch. 

When they reached the bottom of the tower, Lexa looked to the guards behind them “Escort Wanheda anywhere she wishes to go. Give her the same courtesy you would give any of our ambassadors.” She said.

“Heda.” He bowed his head.

Clarke looked him over, “Keep up.”

Lexa watched her newest subject stalk outside with unknown purpose, dragging one of her elite guards like he was some kind of goufa. It was cute.

_ Child. _

 

“Is that death stalking me?” Roan turned around to face her, “Or just the commander of death. You’re losing your touch Wanheda.” He looked her over with a smirk, noting the skirt, the bright colors. A single day in Polis and she had already left behind the mantle of warrior.

Clarke looked over her shoulder to her guard and back, “Not even a phantom can escape the bell around their neck.”

Roan chuckled, “It seems Heda is worried that your little powerplay might have made enemies.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I imagine it won’t be the last.” Roan sheathed his knife, “What does the great Wanheda need of me?”

“A sparring partner, ai swela-ringa says you are skilled and the rest of the gonas are scared of me.” She clasped her hands behind her back, eyebrows raised at Roan, silently asking if he was afraid of her too. It was a dangerous game she played, leaving herself at his mercy but it would teach her quite a bit. Both about Roan, and how to protect herself from someone who truly wanted her dead.

_ My belled collar  _

Roan’s eyes glinted, “Then I suppose you have found your partner.” Clarke gestured for him to lead the way and followed the King of Azgeda to the training pits. Specifically the Azgedan training pits. The only warriors and weapons were those of the ice nation, clips of silver fur and black leather on nearly every tool of war. “Choose your weapon Wanheda.” He waved his hand at a sizable rack of different spears, swords, daggers and anything else they could get their hands on for the purpose of killing.

Her gaze was disinterested, glancing over the finely crafted weapons. “I don’t care. Pick one.”

The Azgedan tightened his jaw at the dismissal, “Very well.” He lifted a large spear and tossed it to Wanheda, lifting one for himself. The weapon had a far longer blade than an average spear, meant to be used as a kind of sword from a distance.

Wanheda weighed it in her hand, spinning the heavy weapon before setting the shaft into the crook of her armpit, letting the blade hang nearly to the ground. She wasn’t sure she would be able to lift it properly. “Begin.”

Roan slashed down at her, his blade glancing down the shaft. She rotated the butt of her weapon to smack him in the face. He ducked under the blow and swept the blunt edge of his blade against her shins, smashing her legs out from under her. Wanheda fell with a grunt, and the few watching felt the pain of the blow.

A moment to breathe and she stood up. Weapon back into position. “Again.”

Roan moved back a few feet and held his weapon in two hands like it was a bat with a sharp end. She stepped once, twice, his feet matching hers and grabbed the base of her weapon in a second hand. She swept it low to the ground. Roan jumped over it, but didn’t expect her to continue the arc, bending her body with the weapon to give it more force as the blade headed for his midsection. Roan leaned as far back as he could, taking a shallow cut across his chest. In the moment of her recovery with the heavy weapon he charged at her, slamming the body of his weapon into her chest, and leveling the tip to her throat as she landed. He allowed himself the smallest hint of a smirk.

Wanheda’s expression of fierce concentration did not change. She took a breath and said, “Again.” She stood up with sweat beginning to bead on her head. Roan began with the same arc she had just made. Instead of engaging, Clarke dodged around his attack, her spear nearly dragging its tip on the ground, she circled around Roan and he spun, expecting her to attack again. She ran the blunt end over his heel to make a point, bringing the weapon up to stand before her at a forward angle, slipping back from him. He tucked the weapon into the crook of his arm, couching it as he braced for what looked to be a charge. Clarke ran at him, knocking his weapon to the side with her own and brought her blade up to his throat, the shaft protecting her from Roan’s spear. She looked him in the eyes, daring him to break away.

Roan pivoted his spear on hers, slamming the base into her stomach with such force that all the air left her lungs. She stumbled back and he landed a powerful kick in the same place again, keeping her down. He advanced, weapon angled sharply to hold to her throat. Once more Clarke was on the ground and he had her.

“Again.” Again. Again. Each time she lasted a little longer. Each time she ended up on the ground.

“Again.” Clarke panted. Light had faded around them, but the torches gave a familiar glow to them all, brought Clarke back to the place of unfeeling. Though she did not bleed, all had seen the powerful hits that Roan had landed time and again. The crowd gathered around them knew who was the better warrior, but despite it all, Wanheda stood each time, and commanded him to attack her again.

Roan was beginning to tire, his body unused to such a long fight, his arms trembling beneath the weight of his spear. He thought it a miracle that Wanheda could still hold hers, could still breathe at all. He had slammed her to the ground so many times and she still stood back up. He picked their weapons to put her at a disadvantage, all odds were stacked against her and yet he still felt that he was losing.

“Again.” Clarke snapped, growing impatient.

Roan shook his head clear of all intrusion and raised his weapon once more. “En pleni!” Heda’s shout cut through the crowd. The commander approached with her full guard, plus the one who was supposed to be escorting Clarke.

Wanheda narrowed her eyes at him. He was the one who brought Lexa in to stop this. She could not learn if she did not practice, it was how she had learned to walk the trees, the plains, to shoot the bow. Heda did not understand. Heda had been trained since birth, she had all the time in the world, but Clarke had barely begun.

“Gonas! You are dismissed.” Lexa waved her hand to scatter them. She reached the same hand out to Clarke, offering to help her from the pits.

Her frustration made it difficult to accept, but she knew it would be unacceptable to refuse the hand of her commander, not in front of the Azgeda. Clarke clasped Lexa’s arm and allowed herself to be pulled from the pit. Turning away from Heda, she placed the worn weapon back on the rack where it had been before they started. “Clarke.” Lexa asked, unsure of why she was receiving such brusque treatment. Clarke couldn’t possibly have continued fighting, she was barely able to stand for the shaking of her limbs. She didn’t like feeling lost, and it felt like every time she spoke with Clarke she lost herself a little more.

“Yes Heda?” Clarke straightened, walking to Lexa’s side, her expression truly passive. Lexa frowned but did not protest, leading the entourage back to the tower.

At the door to Lexa’s quarters, the commander looked to her attendant. “Bring us food and water.” They nodded and left immediately. Holding the door open beside her, Lexa looked to her silent companion, “Come inside. Let me see to your wounds.”

Clarke did as she was bid, entering the room and sat on a bench with her back straight and her hands clasped. Such perfect obedience was painful to watch. She had to be in pain from her ordeal. Lexa knelt beside Clarke, helping to lift her top to see the damage done. A sharp gasp. Clarke’s skin was a mottled mess of bruises in yellows and blues. By tomorrow it would be purples, reds and blacks. “Why?” She looked up to Clarke’s unseeing eyes, unable to understand what had gone so horribly wrong.

Clarke didn’t respond and Lexa was forced to let it go, prodding gently in search of anything more serious than bruising. Maybe Clarke would speak if she was more harsh, more like their first weeks together. Disapproving mentor to Clarke’s promising youth. “You should not have shown your weakness, more will challenge you.”

Finally, blue eyes rose up to meet green. “What does not kill you makes you stronger. I could have continued for hours, I would have learned for hours. I have proven myself an assassin, a nau koma ripa who hides. Now I will make myself a warrior.”

_ Honorless murderer _

Lexa frowned, “You could have killed yourself.”

“If I could not survive that? Then I do not deserve to be Wanheda.” She snapped, looking away when the attendant arrived with their meal. She stared at the ground, eating absently.

Lexa sighed, putting food in her mouth, tasting nothing but ash. Eating only what her twisting stomach would allow. “Goodnight Clarke.” She whispered, leaving to change. She expected Clarke to be gone when she returned. What she did not expect was Wanheda asleep on her bench, face down in Lexa’s favorite cushion.

Heda could not help her smile pained though it was. Lexa grabbed a fur from her bed and nestled against the blonde, trapping their warmth under the fur. Clarke hummed her contentment, falling into a deep slumber. Lexa followed her example, arms wrapped tight around Clarke’s middle.

 

A twitch around her midsection had Clarke awake and alert. “Mmn, no..” Lexa twisted and turned her head, tightening her grip. A deep breath. She wrapped her steady hand around a twitching one, squeezing.

“Lexa wake up.” Clarke turned in her grip and cupped Lexa’s cheek, pulling her out of her dream.

“No, no I-” Lexa mumbled, beginning to flail, eyes wild under closed lids.

Clarke grabbed Lexa’s face, rolling on top of her, “Wake up. Lexa wake up, I need you to-” Lexa’s eyes flashed open, full of fear, but Clarke felt relief flow over her. “Thank god.” She closed her eyes, letting all the air out of her lungs. “Thank god…” She looked up and kissed Lexa softly, “Don’t scare me like that.”

Shaking her head, Lexa sagged back into the bed, “It was just a dream.” Images flashed through her mind of Costia’s head resting on the pillow beside her. Roan’s blade piercing Clarke’s chest. Polis burning to the ground. Because of her. Because she was too weakened by love to do what was necessary. Shaking hands threaded through dark brown locks, trying to calm herself.

“What was your dream about?” She said, seeing the intensity of it all still written across Lexa’s face.

Lexa closed her eyes, wanting to pretend it had not happened. Wanting to ignore the warning. Clarke would be strong enough. They would not be compromised by love. “Can we please not talk about it?” Pleading eyes looked upward.

A nod was all they needed, strong hands cupping Lexa’s cheeks to draw her away from the images playing over and over in her head. “We don’t need to talk at all.” Gentle lips plundered Lexa’s mouth. Clarke’s hand tracing over Lexa’s side and down her hip. Come back to me, she thought. With each kiss and touch, Clarke pled for Lexa to forget her dreams. Distracting her thoughts. Bringing her heat and desire, offering her body.

It wasn’t until the sun kissed their entwined legs that Lexa finally stopped thinking about the warning. She occupied her lips elsewhere, kissing down the valley between pale breasts, following the scars down. Pulling moaning gasps from the woman beneath her. Making her twist and clutch at the sheets, gasping for air that never seemed to come.

Clarke clung to the armrest, flushed and whimpering, “Please Lexa, please..”

Lexa stopped her downward motion, grinning like a cat over the rise of Clarke’s stomach, “We agreed no talking.” She pushed herself back up, catching Clarke’s lips before she could moan her displeasure.

“Evil woman.” Clarke shook her head, wrapping her legs around Lexa’s waist. They grinned at one another, continuing the back and forth of pleasing one another until the guards interrupted them.

A heavy knock at the door, “Heda, Titus wishes for your presence with the natblidas.”

Lexa gritted her teeth in frustration, trying to ignore Clarke’s lips on her neck, “Send word, I will be on the training grounds in a hour.”

“Yes Heda.”

Clarke nibbled Lexa’s ear, “I will train with Roan again. Today. Every day. Until I can best him.” Both warning and promise.

Heda turned to look at her, “Why?”

Blue eyes closed. Pain rising in her chest once more, reminding her of all she had done. “Because I cannot look them in the eyes and ask them to die for me. Not anymore.”

Lexa worked her jaw, nodding. It is not aimed at anyone, is the pain in Clarke’s soul. But it still hurt her to have her words thrown back at her as the reason that Clarke tried so hard, as the reason the Clarke couldn’t let herself be at peace. Another deep breath and Lexa nodded. “Okay.” She cupped Clarke’s cheek, “I will not pretend to like it, and I will stop if you go too far, but if this is what you need then you will have it.”

“Thank you Lexa.” There was so much relief, a burden removed from Clarke’s mind. She would never stop, not now, but it made everything easier. To know that Lexa would not fight her, that she would not have to choose between her heart and her soul.

Today when Clarke moved into the training pit, the crowd was already settled, gonas jostling for the best view of Wanheda’s training, or beating depending on who you listened to. She and Lexa had split up to go to their separate sections of the training yard, but she could still hear the distant sound of the commander’s voice as she instructed her novitiates.

A flash of light on moving metal was the only warning. Clarke turned out of the way, mind still elsewhere. “Afraid of getting your ass kicked with that swisa ste?” She yanked the axe out of the dirt, hefting the weapon the same way she had the spear.

_ Sword stick. _

“It is called a Nagin, snake staff.” He corrected her, holding out a shield.

Smile growing Clarke returned her mind to their current situation. “You did not answer my question Roan.” A flick of the hand answered his silent question and he set the shield back on the rack.

“I am not afraid of your skill, only of Heda’s retribution for breaking her new favorite.” Roan retorted, garnering a chuckle from the gathered warriors.

Clarke narrowed her eyes at Roan, amused by his words but also recognizing the truth in them. “Then I suppose you will have to teach me better, so far you are a poor sada.” She lifted her shirt to reveal the black and blue mess of her stomach and ribs. Lexa wouldn’t hurt him, not unless he did serious damage, but it made a strong point. To Roan and the other warriors. That she returned in such shape was strength. Or a death wish.

Roan smirked, “You left your fair share of cuts Wanheda, do not pretend that it was not a good fight.”

She dipped her head, allowing him that concession. “Begin.”

 

It became their daily routine. Clarke and Lexa would wake together, eat and they would walk to the training grounds where they split for the day. Clarke would enter the Azgeda pits and wait for Roan to finish with his duties. Sometimes it took hours for him to show up.

Each time the Azgedan king arrived, Clarke was in the same place no matter how late in the day it was. He wove through his warriors with ease, blending into the groups of men and women perfectly. In the center of the field was an old well where the gonas would drink water after their fights.

At the top of the support for the bucket was Clarke, perched comfortably on the smooth wood. She was absorbed in the sound of each weapon as it moved through the air, the smell of each warrior as they moved around the grounds. Light danced across the weapons, flashing with each strike.

Hours of her day spent watching warriors of all kinds moving in the eternal dance of battle. Clarke soaked in the information, and no matter which weapon Roan threw at her, it seemed she had already improved just a little bit more without him. Without anyone but herself and the ghosts of warriors past honing their talents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, next chapter is up and I just want to say thank you for reading and commenting, it makes me excited to write more stories and get back into writing again. It's been years since I've put any words on a page and so thanks for making this a positive experience for me.


	7. A real beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After weeks of trying to take a step back, Lexa finally walks in on Clarke's little training sessions with Roan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if I remembered to post yesterday, so if I didn't I am most apologetic, and if I did well it's party because we have ourselves a nice little weekend update. Don't get used to it. I need one day to bash my brain against a wall until the creative juices begin flowing towards the wound. Sometimes I take walks instead. It depends on the story and how much they frustrate me. Murder children always end in wall bashing.
> 
> Anyway, back to the subject at hand, we see that Clarke has a great deal of pain tolerance, most likely from her as of yet undetermined period of time spent ignoring all signals from her body except when it would lead to a severe lack of function. She seems like the kind of girl now who would also prefer to bash her face against a wall. (I swear it's a joke.) And while I would like to reassure you that she was much healthier in Ingranronakru with Asiya, she is now neck deep in old painful memories and as such is falling back into old habits.

“Go, eat.” Lexa waved the natblidas away, shooing them towards their midday meal. Most of them ran for the enclave where they lived with the flamekeepers, but some paused by the large crowd in the training pit. Not even four hours had passed since Clarke had gone to train, and already half the gonas in Polis were gathered to watch. “What is she doing now?” Lexa muttered, sweeping her cloak out of the way. The crowd parted before her with reverent murmurs of ‘Heda’, some touching her arms gently, proving she was real. It seemed that every time Clarke went out to train with Roan she returned with more bruises and cuts, and an even larger audience. At this rate the gonas were going to start climbing the tower to see the pits better.

The roar of the combatants had Lexa pushing harder through the crowd, splitting them just in time for her heart to stop. Roan was flying through the air, sword raised above his head as he tried to bring it down on Clarke’s head. She dove under his legs, rolling to her feet and threw her weapon to the wall of the pit, sinking the axe deep, just an inch from his left ear.

Roan turned, panting. Eyes widened ever so slightly. Wanheda simply held out her hand. He nodded, handing her the axe. “Again.” He grinned.

Clarke ducked low, sweeping her leg at his feet and brought her axe around at knee height, turning it at the last minute to slam the flat of the weapon into his joint. Roan grimaced, allowing himself to fall. He rolled away from Clarke’s next potentially fatal swing and got to his feet, grinning at the axe embedded in the dirt where his head had been. Lexa watched him come to a conclusion in that moment and resettled his stance, no longer allowing himself to make mistakes. Wanheda was trusting him to be the superior warrior. Trusting him to punish her for choosing poorly, to train her.

Clarke’s eyes lit up. Finally he got the damn message. All the bravado, the snarkiness and the desire for even some minor revenge for his people. She understood but she didn’t need bruises to remind her. She needed to know what it was to breathe power without losing control, to look herself in the mirror and tell herself to go die. For them. She needed this.

Sensing the shift in the way the fighters stood, the gonas around Lexa began to murmur, it did not feel like the playful sparring of weeks past. It was beginning to feel like solo gonplei. “Again.”

Roan crouched low, his arms spread wide and low, his sword acting like an extention of his hand. Clarke stood tall, axe down by her side, waiting for him to move. They circled one another, matching their steps for nearly ten minutes. Each one focused solely on the body of the other, looking for a hint of their next move. Clarke was endlessly patient. Sweat began to bead on her brow, her skin turning tan from the constant exposure to the sun over the last weeks. Her steps never changed their pattern, her weapon never lifted. She was content to wait for Roan to make his move.

It all happened in a flash of movement. Roan shuffled forward, keeping his legs firm underneath him and swung at Clarke’s head. She batted his weapon aside and ducked under the punch her threw at her. She kicked him in the hip and spun away before he could land another hit. Then they were back again. Clarke waiting, and Roan worse for the wear but looking for an opening.

All those outside the pit watched in confusion, even Lexa. One could not be passive in battle, leaving themselves open to attack. Roan may not have been able to advance on her, but such a strategy would not work against multiple enemies. The King of Azgeda seemed to have a similar idea, raising his weapon high and roaring.

Three gonas answered his call and rushed into the pit, straight for Wanheda. Lexa took a step forward involuntarily. Ice filled her veins and she could not look away as her lover was attacked. They came from all directions, experienced warriors attacking in unison. Her hand hovered at her waist as she fought back the need to end the fight and have Clarke angry at her for days.

Wanheda seemed even more calm now, with death coming at her from all sides. She had refused armor, shield, anything to defend herself with. If any of them hit her it would be disastrous at best. Even Roan hesitated in his attack, but they came nonetheless, striking in unison.

Then Wanheda was gone, ducking under the wide stance of the gona to her right and standing up behind him. She drew the back of her axe across one of the Azgeda’s throat leaving a thin line of blood to let him know he was dead. She spun, slamming the flat of her blade against the warrior to Roan’s right so hard he stumbled into his king, making him fumble his striek. Clarke stood across the pit from Roan and his remaining companion, the others leaving once they had been ‘killed’.

Lexa had forgotten how to breath, standing with her men. All of them watching in perfect silence, waiting for the result. Roan looked to his companion, nodding to the gona. They spread out to either side, preparing themselves to capture her carefully, respecting her defense for what it was.

Clarke waited. Blue eyes trained on Roan, watching him for what the other would do. Reading him like a book. He kept moving, drawing her gaze with his weapon raised. Lexa bit her lip to keep from making a sound, in battle no one would tell Clarke to duck, no one would warn her. Blood dripped down her lip as she watched Clarke seemingly ignore the man behind her.

The gona looked to his leader for just a moment and swung his sword at Clarke’s back. Wanheda ducked under his blow, bending down further than she needed to and danced around the gona so nimbly that he lost balance and she kicked him into his king. The Azgedans collided, crashing into each other. Roan threw his warrior aside just in time for Clarke to chop the head off his weapon and rammed her shoulder into his chest.

Roan landed hard on his back and Clarke lunged, one thigh on his right arm and the other on his throat, her axe clasped in both hands ready for his response. The king tried to twist out from under her, but her stance was strong, and he needed to keep his neck attached to his shoulders. “Attack me and he dies.” She said, her voice sending shivers down the spines of those listening. It was not a threat made lightly, and the gona behind her responded accordingly, raising his hands.

Wanheda threw her axe, the butt hitting him square in the chest. A kill shot on any other battlefield. Roan watched her carefully, his face turning red from lack of air and blood. Wanheda stood, offering him her hand. He took it. “You have been holding back.”

“I’m not the only one.” She released him once he was on his feet, “We will start again tomorrow.”

“Tired already Wanheda?”

“No. The gonas are.” Her grin could only be described as wicked. She had enjoyed putting herself at risk.

They clasped forearms and went their separate ways. Roan to nurse his bruises, and Clarke to see to her commander. “Breathe Heda, I am fine.” She said, turning to look directly at the commander, letting Lexa know that she had been aware of her the whole time.

“You are foolish.” Lexa replied, her words clipped. “You should not threaten Azgeda, not even in jest. Their elders call for your blood and you give them more reasons to ask.”

Clarke took in her shaking hands and the fear in her words, realizing why this was an argument. “Apologies Heda, it won’t happen again.” She submitted easily, wishing she could apologize for scaring Lexa. In the end she did not regret her actions, nor would the commander respond well to such an allegation. She didn’t know what to say that would fix this, didn’t know how to reassure Lexa that it was just practice. Her gaze dropped and a frown marred her features. “Your lip.” 

A quick swipe of her hand informed Lexa that while she had not bitten a hole, she was bleeding down her chin. “It will heal.”

Clarke’s hands clenched, why did everything have to be so difficult with her? “Then you won’t mind me taking a look at it. You, fetch my healing kit from my room.” She ordered the guard assigned to her. “And you, sit.” She glared at Lexa until the commander allowed herself to be guided to the edge of the well where Clarke would observe the gonas.

The guard returned with Clarke’s kit who took it without looking at him. Her eyes were on Lexa. A piece of gauze took care of the blood, and she had a small vial of wax mixed with a minor pain killer. It would cover the wound, and lessen the pain. “He has a name you know. They all do.” Lexa grumbled.

“You are angry at me again.”

“You could have died.”

“Roan owes me too much. It was a demonstration of my ability as much as his.”

“How did you know where they were?”

“The sound. The grinding of their feet in the dirt, the movement of their armor, latches, buckles, it’s so loud they might as well be screaming at me. Even the sound of their weapons cutting through the air.” Clarke shook her head.

“No one can hear all that.” No one could become so attuned to the battlefield, especially not Skaikru, the ones who were so ignorant of their impact when they arrived.

“I can.”

“How?”

“Same way I do everything else. Practice.” Clarke still hadn’t looked Lexa in the eye, it was like she was afraid to see what was waiting for her there. “One day I’ll take you for a walk, show you.”

Lexa pursed her lips, “I would like that.” Perhaps it would let her see what pushed Clarke to change so much. Guilt and grief did not change a person as wholly as Clarke had.

Feeling the frustration in her words, she glanced up then back to her work, “Is it always going to be like this? Bickering all day long until we’re too tired to fight, picking at one another until we forget that we care? Falling into bed and praying that the light never comes?”

A long sigh was her only answer. They sat in silence until Clarke lost her patience. “I’ll be back by dark.” She tucked her kit into her pocket and walked away. 

 

“You should go easy on Heda, she has much to worry about.”

Clarke looked down at her guard, eyes narrowed. “And what would you have me do?”

He shrugged, stripping the individual needles off a twig. “That is not my place Wanheda.”

She scoffed, “Everyone has an opinion. How would you have me deal with her?”

“Patience.”

“Not my strong suit.”

“It was in the pits.”

“That’s… That’s different.” Clarke looked down, picking out the branches occupied by ghosts, “It’s easier there, to wait until the moment arrives to strike out, to kill. They’re like books, you just have to be willing to read them. I don’t want to do that to her. She’s not a puzzle to figure out.” Clarke sighed, getting to her feet.

“You love her?” He looked over, emphasizing the seriousness of his question.

“I always have.” She leapt through the trees, moving from branch to branch just as easily as any trikru. The guard working hard to keep up, scaring off the wildlife with all the noise he was making. It was obnoxious.

She only withstood a few minutes of the racket before she stopped again, “What is your name?”

He bent over, breathing heavily. “Ingan kom Azgeda.”

Azgeda. That meant scars. She peered at his face looking for them, but he shook his head, showing her his hand. The brand was there, raised up on his skin far more than hers had been, though some of the first of her scars had become rather pronounced. “How do you get the scars so deep?”

“There is a flower in the north. They crush it with oil and rub it into the wound, it slows the healing, raises the scars.”

She filed that knowledge away for the future, “Well then, Ingan kom Azgeda, the key to walking the trees is to be silent. Step where I step until you can learn how to do it yourself.” She could feel his frustration at being treated like a child, but there was no point in either of them arguing. They both knew he was inept. Guards are supposed to be a benefit, not a hindrance.

They moved slowly through the trees, not as impossibly slow as her first dozen journeys but it felt that way. Ingan was not made for the trees, but he did his best to step lightly and in return she tried to take a path that he would feel more comfortable walking. Thicker branches, closer to the tree trunks, fewer rapid drops and climbs.

When evening fell he spoke again. “Where are we going?”

She looked out across the branches, picking out the sentinels on the ground and in the branches, her silent army of shades. Anya whose footsteps she walked in just as Ingan walked in hers. “Wherever the wind takes us.” Her frustration had pushed her to fall into old habits and so her direction of travel had less to do with a plan and more to do with following the wraiths that haunted her steps on the worst days.

In the distance a horn sounded. Danger at the north gate. Clarke’s head snapped up and she took a running leap off their branch, catching the edge of a branch to slow her fall and landed nearly twenty feet below her starting place. She moved to the next branch over and as soon as Ingan made the jump she was off again, going just slow enough that he could follow. It didn’t matter if he raised hell, the horn had done it already and Clarke wanted to know why.

When they hit the ground things moved much faster, both Clarke and Ingan were able to run full speed, catching up with the horn-blower at the gate. “An army of Azgedans are marching on Polis, and they are escorting prisoners.” He shouted. “Let me through.”

Clarke moved to the messenger, “You’re coming with me. Open the gate, we are taking him to Heda.” She called, her hand on the rider’s reins, leading his horse through the city as quickly as they could with the crowds all around them.

When the crowds wouldn’t part for them, Clarke turned to Ingan, “Go ahead, tell the tower guards to cut a path for us. We need to know what is going on. Then take Heda and Roan to the council room.”

He nodded, pushing ahead through the crowd much more easily without the horse. Clarke chafed at the slow pace, but at least with the horse she wouldn’t lose the messenger.

Far too much time passed before she and the messenger were in the council chamber. “Clarke what is going on? You do not simply get to summon me whenever you like.” Lexa snapped at her, standing from her throne. Clarke could tell it was through sheer force of will that she wasn’t pacing across the dais. Part of her wanted to point out that Lexa had allowed her to do just that because deep down Lexa knew Clarke would never just summon her without a good reason.

Deep breaths Clarke. You ran off for hours after an argument, then demanded her presence, it’s fine. “Tell her what you saw.” She thrust the messenger forward, avoiding even looking at Lexa. She didn’t want to start fighting again.

He knelt, head down. “Heda, I was patrolling the north woods when I saw Azgedan scouts, I followed them and they led me to another army, bigger than the last. They had a group nearly a hundred strong bound and gagged under guard. Prisoners of some kind.”

Lexa stopped in her tracks, eyes on the messenger. Her gaze flicked upwards, “Is this true?”

Clarke shrugged, “I know as much as you do, but I thought you would want me to consult you this time before I made a move.”

“Find King Roan and bring him to me.” Lexa snapped at the guards.

Ingan chose that moment to barge in with King Roan in tow.

“Explain why my scouts have found your army moving on Polis for the second time in a month.” Lexa was on edge, her voice tight with anger and her usual facade cracked.

Roan blinked, “It’s a gift, for skaikru.”

“Explain.”

Roan raised his hands, “When skaikru landed, one of the pieces of the wreckage landed in Azgeda lands. My mother captured those who were left and planned to use them as leverage. Wanheda ended the war, but I thought it would be a sign of good faith between our clans. I was bringing them to the ambassador, so they could be relocated to Arcadia.”

“Then why are they gagged and bound?” Clarke demanded, her eyes narrowed.

“Because not all Skaikru is as peaceful as those who landed in Arcadia. The ones in Azgeda have been waging war since they landed.” He smirked, “I supposed the cold has that effect on everyone.”

“This is no laughing matter Roan. In the future I would appreciate more warning before you move your army this close to Polis.” Lexa chided him. He bowed, murmuring his apologies. “I will deal with you later.” She waved him off and looked to the messenger, “You too, return to your post.”

“Sha Heda.” The men intoned, leaving. The messenger looking far more cowed than the king. Ingan took that as his cue to leave the room as well, receiving a thankful nod from Clarke.

Once the door had shut behind them, Clarke spoke, “I’m sorry for summoning you like that. I expected Ingan to explain more.” Lexa didn’t respond to her, pacing as she had so desperately wanted to before.

Of course Lexa was going to sulk, Clarke had her chance to do the same while Lexa had been forced to continue. To fight the accusations and the politics of choosing her people over their vengeance. Those deaths and all of those leading up to it were as much Lexa’s fault as Clarke’s. Lexa never had her time to grieve. She dropped slowly to her knees, ready to wait for Lexa as long as she needed.

Dusk transformed to night. Attendants came in to light the torches. A platter of food was left at the table by Heda’s throne. All before Lexa finally decided to sit. Anya stood beside Lexa, watching quietly, always watching, but it wasn’t supposed to be Lexa. Wasn’t supposed to be with so much love either. It was then she realized that Anya was the only phantom there… Maybe see was not seeing her own ghosts now, but one of Lexa’s.

“Do they follow you too? Trikovakru?”

_ Ghosts _

“They are not Trikovakru, they are spirits of those who have passed, Keryon. Those who wish to guide us to a better path.” Lexa explained as if Clarke was an exhausting child, and she had been tired before the day even started.

_ Spirits _

Clarke couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from her throat, “Anya must be bored as hell then.”

“Anya guides you too?” She sounded surprised, “She must have liked you.”

“Liked me?” Clarke snorted, “She beat me within an inch of my life, insulted me, dragged me around like the branwoda goufa I was so that she could bring me to you as recompense for her failure at the dropship.” She shook her head with a chuckle, “Anya hated me to the very end. She follows me to remind me how useless I am, I’m sure of it.”

“How-” Her cracked voice brought Clarke’s gaze up, “How did she die? You never told me.”

“I was ashamed to.” Tears began to fill her eyes. Tears Clarke thought she had already shed. “We escaped the mountain, made it all the way back to Arcadia. I was beat up but otherwise fine, the same for her. I think the only reason I survived was because I had about two weeks of eating well and she was being starved…” Clarke looked up into Lexa’s eyes, begging for understanding before the words were said, “The guards, they saw us covered in mud and blood, hiking around the edge of camp. They saw two grounders.” She shook her head, “His only punishment was losing his gun. He killed Anya, shot me, and our justice was taking his gun.”

The horror in Lexa’s eyes was too much, the hatred in her own heart was too much. Clarke had bled her whole body for those she killed, and paid so much more in guilt. There was no justice for Anya, no retribution for the death of a warrior. Of a friend. “They are weak.” The whisper was almost silent, but it cut through the air, “I will never be Clarke kom skaikru again. I can’t. I can’t be the goufa who let Anya die without revenge, without a pyre.”

“I thought she hated you.”

The burning hatred in Anya’s eyes was something she could never forget, hatred for the woman who had killed so many warriors with a weakling’s weapon. Hatred for a child that had bested her. “Anya hated me for my weakness. I admired her. She was strong, powerful, she loved her people so much.” Her vision blurred, “After we blew the bridge, Anya captured me and Finn, made us help a child. I didn’t know it was her seken, I-I thought it was her daughter. Before that I thought grounders were just heartless beasts who killed for sport. Seeing her mourn Tris’ death, it gave me a new understanding.”

“They offered me a place in Trikru as their healer.” Clarke couldn’t bear to look up at Lexa. “Instead I killed hundreds more, I took those lives, thought I took the lives of Finn and Bellamy. I had a chance for peace and instead I twisted the knife because I didn’t think there was another way.”

“There wasn’t.” Lexa rasped, “Jus drein, jus daun.”

“Exactly.” Clarke looked up, “I was the one who approved the flares, I was the one who told them to make a bomb, it was me. I should have been the one to pay with a thousand cuts, not them. Not you.”

“Do you think we would have stopped at just one death? Do you think I would have stopped?” Agonizing regret bled through every word.

“You would have if I survived to dawn.” Clarke watched the tears draw lines on Lexa’s face, “I would have. Trikru would want me to suffer,” She traced the swirling pattern on her arms, “And I would have lived until the moment your sword gave me mercy.”

“Is that what you want?” Lexa asked, a trace of disgust in her voice, “To die? Is that why you mark yourself, let Roan beat you within an inch of your life? I saw you in the pits today, you could win but instead you take your beating.”

“I don’t want to die.” Clarke shook her head, feeling the words resonate in her heart. “But I am a coward. I owe Azgeda three hundred lives, and if I can give them that in bruises and sweat and tears, if I can give them the satisfaction of seeing their king take his revenge, and if I can become stronger from it? Then I will take my beating and be glad for it. I owe them that much.”

“You are a fool.”

“And a coward.” Clarke added, taking no offense from the accusation.

“Then why do you stay in Polis?” Her sneer cut Clarke to the quick, the command to leave hidden in her words.

“Because I think you deserve more than just survival. Maybe-” Lexa watched her intently, waiting for her next words. “Maybe I deserve more than that too.”

Silence overtook them once more and Clarke nodded to herself, “I think we pushed too much, too hard.” She looked up at Lexa, “I don’t think we are ready to do all of this, we need time to heal and grieve.”

“Is this goodbye then?” Lexa’s face was hard, hiding the pain she felt.

“No.” Clarke closed her hands into fists, “I don’t ever want to say goodbye to you again, but I think we need to be friends before we are lovers.”

Lexa frowned, “We are not friends?”

“Love is weakness Heda, you told me that.” Clarke smiled, “You were always just as much an obstacle to me as the rest of Arcadia. You were like the mountain, immovable and strong and beautiful, I could never reach you, never even pretend that my admiration could be anything more. In the end you were the enemy.”

Her laugh was a little forced, but her rueful smirk was not, “I suppose you are right, Wanheda kom Ingranronakru. Friends.” she offered her arm.

Clarke took it, clasping her hand around Lexa’s elbow, “Friends until the very end.” She pulled herself to her feet, and placed a chaste kiss on Lexa’s cheek, “I will see you tomorrow Heda.”

Lexa felt a weight removed from her shoulders, the responsibility for Clarke’s choices lifted away. Her smile came easily, “Is that how you say goodbye to all of your friends Wanheda kom Ingranronakru?”

“No.” She grinned in response, “Just you.” She ducked around Lexa and stole half of the sandwich that was on her plate.

“Hey!” Lexa lunged at the sandwich, feeling her burdens lighten just a little bit, the feeling that everything was going to crash and burn was fading quickly. “Give that back!”

“I’m hungry. I had to sit there for a long ass time your commanderness, I deserve a snack.” Clarke replied. “I will see you in the morning.” She left with a smile on her face. Things were not better between them, but they could figure it out without the pain of knowing one mistake could destroy everything they were trying to build.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, sometimes sex is not the answer. If only right?


	8. Gift horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke takes the opportunity to return home for real this time, and reaps all the complications and benefits of that choice.

 

“Welcome warriors of the thirteen clans.”

“Hail, commander of the blood.”

“I have called you today to calm your fears.”

Inaku of the broadleaf tribe stood up, “We aren’t afraid, Azgeda has moved their army back to Polis again! They have broken the law of Congeda again! Where is their punishment?” He snapped, pointing a finger at Roan. “Where is our justice?

Voices raised and the ambassadors stood up, each one trying to yell over the other about how Azgeda deserved to be burned to the ground, or how they had already been punished. “En pleni.” The flamekeeper shouted, smashing his staff into a bronze cap, the sound was like a gunshot.

Lexa watched the ambassadors sit down, watched Clarke’s fists unclench behind her back. “Azgeda has already paid for marching on Polis. Wanheda carried out revenge upon Queen Nia and her army.  Now you will hear King Roan explain his actions.”

Roan nodded and stood up, “Azgeda has committed crimes against you all, but especially against Skaikru. I present a gift to Skaikru. Part of your ship crashed in our lands, your people survived and now we return them to you.”

Kane blinked in surprise, “Thank you, I will send for some men to take them the rest of the way home.”

Heda nodded, “You will receive an escort from Polis, I will not risk an attack from bandits or the beasts in the forest spoiling your gift.”

Clarke looked over her shoulder at Lexa, a possibility building in the back of her mind. A potential chance to settle herself into this life again. “Heda.”

All eyes turned to Clarke and she knelt before Lexa, “I would like to lead the escort to Skaikru, they will need help building new homes for their people, and hunters to feed them.” She looked up at Lexa with a hint of pleading. After so much time away, she couldn’t come slinking back begging forgiveness for something she needed. She wouldn’t debase herself like that for a lie.

If Clarke could return to Arcadia bringing help, protection, and a gift from old foes, then maybe it would be enough to ease the wall down, to give her a chance with her people. Lexa nodded before looking to the ambassadors, “Wanheda will ensure their safe passage, and judge when Skaikru is no longer in need of aid.” Her eyes landed on King Roan, “Return your gonas to their homes. Anything else will be taken as an act of war, and you shall be the first to bleed for it.”

Roan bowed his head, sitting down in his chair. Clarke saw the way his hand covered his mouth, hiding his smirk from the others. He was worse than Murphy. Every turn was somehow in his favor, at this rate he was going to steal the title of cockroach for good. It got the cogs in her head turning, wondering what benefit he gained from giving the members of Skaikru back for free, at the cost of food and supplies for his people.

Kane smiled up at Lexa, “If I may, I would like to send a messenger immediately, our people will be overjoyed to hear about more survivors.”

She nodded, “Of course.”

He left another in his place to act as his representative and left the room. The main order of business over, they continued the council, talking over a few more minor clan issues, border disputes and arguments of trade deals. It was very mundane. Lexa listened, watched, mediated when needed. This was the commander Clarke had seen when she first entered the war tent. An apathetic teenager wearing warpaint and commanding the attention of thousands with her presence alone, it was a miracle that Lexa had pulled together so many.

“Are you done staring yet?”

“Hmmn?” Clarke looked around and all the ambassadors and their gonas had gone, leaving just Clarke and Lexa. “I was thinking.”

“About?”

“How you managed all this. These clans have been fighting for decades and you brought them together under one flag. It’s amazing.”

Lexa shook her head, “It’s what I was born to do. My spirit is what keeps our people alive, united.”

More spiritual hoodoo. Clarke had never been terribly interested with the religion of the grounders beyond their rites for death and birth, two things she’d been very involved in since becoming a healer for the plains clan. “Doesn’t sound like any of the other commanders managed this kind of alliance.”

“No, but they’ve tried. I have their knowledge and experience to guide me.”

“Right.” Clarke rolled her eyes, “And I thought I was crazy.”

Lexa leveled her with a disapproving look, “The spirits of the dead coming back to guide us makes sense to you, but passing on your spirit to another is crazy?”

Wanheda smirked, “As far as the Ark is concerned, we’re both crazy. Who knows, maybe you do have a bunch of other commanders in your head. What do they say?” Passing curiosity was enough to entertain the idea.

Lexa dropped the playful air entirely, “That love is weakness, and you are a liability.”

“... That’s what your dreams are about.”

“Yes.”

Clarke lifted Lexa’s chin, “Then it’s about time you show them another reason you’re different.” The commander blinked in surprise, a hint of a smile twisting her lips. “You’re Lexa kom Trikru, and none of those bitches have anything on you. Remember that while I’m gone.”

Lexa allowed herself a small smile, “I will. Don’t forget that you have friends here as well, Polis is only a day’s ride from Arcadia.”

“Nau mema we ai?” She teased, “Nau fir raun, oso hit choda op nodotiem Heda.”

_ Missing me already? Don’t be afraid, we will meet again. _

“We’d better.” Lexa grabbed her arm, holding it tight.

“Trust me.”

 

Ashdaun pranced beneath her, eager to get moving again. “Chilness Ashdaun.” She patted the horse’s neck, looking out over their entourage. Skaikru brought in a trio of rovers with trailers on them to help carry as many of their people as possible, the rest were walking or riding the dozen horses brought by Skaikru. Ingranronakru horses capable of carrying two easily. All of the blindfolds, hoods, gags, and other bindings had been removed once Skaikru had showed up, Clarke reasoned that if they had been fighting grounders, they wouldn’t do anything else while surrounded by an army of grounders.

For now they were clumped together, looking around suspiciously at the gonas around them, and specifically at Clarke. It only made sense to target the leader of all the grounders and she looked the part with her intricate braids and warpaint, but hopefully Kane would be able to convince them of the good intent of the Congeda. A few of the faces were familiar, and Clarke wasn’t fond of being hated by friends.

After nearly two hours of calming arguments and getting everyone settled in a way that felt safe, Kane jogged over, “We’re ready to go.” She nodded, turning away, but he put a hand on her leg, “Thank you, it means a lot that you’re coming home.”

It isn’t my home. Her heart cried out, but she ignored the pain of even pretending that she was still Skaikru. Clarke offered him a shaky smile, “I can only hope the rest of Skaikru is as forgiving as you Kane.” He pressed his lips together and nodded, patting her leg as he returned to his rover.

A deep breath and Clarke spun around to their entourage, “We step klir kom Skaikru, hez op fotowon kom tri-de,” She looked to Ingan, “teik em laud, tromon-de.”

_ We march with Sky people. Watch out for bandits in the trees, sound the horn. _

Ingan blew his horn, and the gonas around them marched.

It took them a whole day to walk halfway to Arcadia. Some argued that they should just take the rovers with trailers to make the trip but it would have taken almost as long and left those in the trailer exposed to any potential attack. Clarke hated every minute of it. She longed to charge through the woods, scattering beast and plants before her, to feel the wind carry her. Instead she walked. Slowly.

“Teik faya-de ouder. Skaikru set raun faya-de, gonas hon daun dina.” Clarke called out, gesturing to where she wanted the fires set up, and the group to go find food for them. “Kane, do you need help setting up tents for your people?”

_ Make fires over there. Sky clan set up camp by the fire, warriors hunt for dinner. _

Kane paused in the process of pulling the tents off the top of one of the rovers, “Yes please, I want to get camp up as soon as possible.”

Clarke could feel the eyes in the forest, those of curious folks watching. “Agreed.” The sooner they were out of sight, the better. She spoke quietly to her bodyguard, “Ingan hez osir op.”

_ Watch our backs. _

He nodded, turning his horse around and gathering a few of the other gonas to set up watch around the camp. 

Clarke left her horse with Ingan and walked over to Kane to finish their conversation, “Where do you need me?”

Kane passed her a tent with a smile, “Set this up, I’m sure some of the others wouldn’t mind helping you out.”

The dark glares, and suspicious looks around her said otherwise. Raising the hairs on the back of her neck and making her wish she had brought more with her than just a bow and a dagger. “Ai nau wich emo Kane, sheid ai-de mafta ai steppin op.”

_ I don’t trust them Kane, dark looks follow my steps. _

“Ai get em. Ron emo op tiem.” He patted her shoulder, “Pike will help you.” He pointed to her old Earth skills teacher who was having a conversation with a few of his other station members.

_ I understand. Give them time. _

Instead of arguing with the optimist, she did as she was bid. Clarke carried her tent over on a shoulder, “Mr. Pike.” She called, standing far enough away to avoid being hit if they decided they didn’t like the way she breathed.

He turned around to look at her with anger, “What do you-” Pike’s eyes narrowed and he took a step closer, searching her face for something, “I’ll be damned, Clarke. Clarke Griffin right?” The four others in his little group turned around, condemning her.

His initial reaction was concerning, but Clarke had finally learned patience. “I heard about your crash course before the drop.” She offered, “Saved more than one life, even if none of them will admit it.”

He walked over, most of the aggression gone from his stance, “Good, I was worried about them all, you too. I tried to get you in on it, but Jaha said it was too risky.”

She ventured a smile, “He was probably right. As you can see I did just fine with the first course. You want to help me with this?” She hefted the tent.

Pike nodded, waving off the others in his group that stepped forward, “I’ll be fine, go help set up camp.” He waved them towards the fires that her gonas were putting together.

“Loyal folks.” Clarke commented, walking him to a clear space for the tent, “I hear you put up one hell of a fight for Azgeda. They were worried enough to keep you seperate from their main force.”

White teeth flashed in a grin, “You bet we did, ambushing groups of their warriors, we took out two villages before they captured us.” His grin turned sour, “They went after our children, we had no choice but to surrender after that.”

Clarke began pulling out supplies, rolling out the canvas for the base, “I am sorry to say I did not give Queen Nia the death she deserved, it was quick.”

“Yeah but we heard the stories about what happened to the rest of them, screaming, turning on one another, driving them crazy. Damn impressive.” He laid out the poles, working efficiently, “From what I hear you’ve made quite the name for yourself, and you certainly have  _ them _ eating out of the palm of your hand.” He jerked his head at her gonas.

“They would do the same for Kane, he is the leader of Skaikru, they are beholden to him as a clan chief.” She shrugged. Deep inside she knew that it wasn’t quite true, but they just needed more time for Skaikru to settle themselves, to prove their worth. Time for Skaikru to become strong.

Pike scoffed, “Sure they would. They’re savages Clarke, they only understand strength. Without those guns of yours, they would have picked you off one by one same as us. But they treat you like you’re one of them, having an inside man could be useful.”

Clarke bristled at his choice of words, feeling the intense hatred behind them, “Strong words.”

“You don’t understand them Clarke.” He replied, looking at her like she was a helpless child. All of his respect for her was wiped away clean as soon as she disagreed with him. “You may dress up like them and wear their warpaint, but you will always be a member of the Ark. The sooner you understand that, the safer you’ll be.” Pike finished the final touches on the tent and stood up, using his height to try and intimidate her into listening, it was a tactic she hadn’t had to deal with in a long time. “Maybe you’ve scared them enough to hold them back for now, but if we give them even an inch of space, they will kill us all.”

She stepped back from his intensity and he took her fear of him as understanding of his words. Pike patted her on the shoulder as he left, like she was his comrade, or a student. Ingan walked over as soon as he was gone, “Chit kom au? Yu fir in em Wanheda?”

_ What happened? Are you afraid of him? _

“Ai em op Ingan, em fotowon.” She clenched her jaw, trying to pretend she didn’t feel cold. Pike was intense in his hatred of the grounders, and from the looks of the rest of his people watching her, watching her gonas, he wasn’t the only one.

_ Watch that one, he’s a bad one. _

“Sha wanheda.” He agreed, folding his arms. It was an intimidation tactic, but Clarke knew he could sense the bad feelings that festered in these people, especially towards his tribe. They were anything but safe, and she could only hope that given time and safety the survivors of farm station would learn to accept grounders. And if not, then she knew what Roan had to gain.

Clarke took aside her gonas, chatting with them all, trying to keep them at ease as they watched the trees and the inhabitants of the camp. They knew that these new members of Skaikru were different. She didn’t sleep that night. She kept to the trees to observe the movements of the people under cover of darkness. Clarke left Ingan with instructions to lead the march tomorrow if she wasn’t back. He was upset about the order, but he was willing to trust her judgement.

Farm station stayed in a tight circle around the central bonfire, the children at the center of their little group. The rest of Skaikru ranged out around them, comfortably mixing with the gonas, even those not of Trikru. The outer ring was a mixed patrol of gonas and the guard, rotating through the night with smiles and quiet conversations. Clearly things had changed. Gone were the suspicious looks and the desire for revenge. They were brothers and sisters in arms protecting their people.

Through the night, there was a slow trickle of people from the other tents to Pike’s. She had marked it early on, and not all of the survivors went, not all went only once, but Clarke memorized the faces of those who kept returning to his tent.

In the morning her gonas took down camp, following Ingan’s orders as if he had always been the one in charge. Clarke smiled to herself, pleased that they understood the shift of command. Kane was the next problem. He started walking from person to person, his body language growing more agitated, she gritted her teeth, waiting for him to start a panic but Ingan pulled him aside.

That guard was smarter than she thought. It made sense that Lexa has assigned someone capable and intelligent to her. It also explained his frustration in being treated as nothing more than dead weight perhaps she should have trusted him sooner.

She watched them get everyone settled into their trailers and horses, but was surprised when Pike was walking with a limp and went to talk with Kane. He pointed at Ashdaun during their conversation, and after a brief argument, Pike was helped onto her mount. That alone was nearly enough to make her want to drop back to the ground, to kick his ass off her horse and leave him in the woods for Pauna. Instead she gritted her teeth and watched Ingan sound the march.

The day passed, the eyes in the woods let them pass untouched. Animals stayed far away from their large group. Pike just rode her horse. The quiet made her skin crawl, it felt so wrong. However she felt the silence was a warning, they did make it to the edge of the forest safely. Arcadia came into view sprawling out behind scrap metal walls that felt so much safer than the electric fence. It was time to make her appearance once more, and learn a little more about Pike.

Clarke descended rapidly, landing on her feet beside Pike with a thud, her eyes on his reaction. He pulled his arms up, yanking Ashdaun into rearing. Pike lost his grip on the horse and slid off while Clarke whistled. Ashdaun dropped and ran over to her, nickering and headbutting her none too gently for letting her be ridden by some branwada. “Chilnes Ashdaun.” She caressed her horse’s cheek, pressing their foreheads together, “Chilnes.” She cooed.

Ashdaun stomped once in outrage before allowing herself to be calmed. “I would appreciate it if you would not let anymore branwada goufa ride my horse.” She said, looking up at Ingan. There was a low chuckle among the gonas that heard her. A chuckled that stopped as soon as she glared at them.

_ Stupid children _

“What are you waiting for, take these people home!” She ordered, waving them on. She waited for them to pass before approaching Pike.

Clarke offered Pike her arm, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He looked down at her hand then back up at her, “What does that mean? What did you call me?”

“I called you someone who doesn’t know how to ride a horse.” She replied, arm still outstretched, “I should have told Ingan that Ashdaun wasn’t a good mount, she’s too temperamental.” With idiots anyway.

Pike sized her up for a moment and shook her hand. The motion threw her off balance, it was unfamiliar and wrong. She took her hand back as soon as he released it, “Let’s get you all settled.”

“Lets.” He agreed, looking just as disturbed by it all. Clarke whistled for her horse, walking on the ground with the remainder of Farm station that stayed behind to wait for Pike. She didn’t have much time to think on the implications of Farm station’s loyalty to Pike, let alone his attitude towards the grounders.

As soon as she entered the camp she was hit by a body and wrapped in a hug. Her whole body went rigid as she fought the instinct to throw them off of her. “Oh my god I missed you so much!” Octavia. It’s okay, it’s just Octavia.

“I-I missed you too O.” She stammered, returning the hug hesitantly. She saw Raven and Monty coming before they captured her in hugs, so it was easier to take the confinement.

As soon as they had gotten their hugs in, Raven slugged her in the arm, “Who said you could go running off like a maniac and come back a grounder princess?”

“Ingranronakru?” Octavia asked, looking at her loose colorful garb, and the tattoo on her forehead.

Clarke gave a small smile, “I made it there eventually, I am Clarke kom Ingranronakru now.”

Octavia lifted her sleeve with a grin, revealing her bicep, “I picked a slightly less obvious place for mine.”

“Yeah yeah congratulations, we’re all grounders now.” Raven rolled her eyes, “You guys want to get your asses inside? We need to celebrate!”

Clarke swallowed, already feeling trapped. “I uh, I need to take care of Ashdaun first, meet you there?”

Raven nodded, heading back to the station while Monty gasped out, “Mom?” And raced for the Farm station survivors.

“I’ll show you where to go.” Octavia offered, staying a few steps back as she led Clarke to the stables. Clarke closed her eyes and took in the familiar scent of the stables, the feel of the brushes and the weight of the blankets. “You find what you were looking out there?” Octavia asked quietly.

“Yes. And no. Ai hon daun hosa, nomon… Ai bilaik kom tiem hon daun chilnes glong ai gon dula.”

_ I found a home, a mother. I am still looking for peace with what I have done. _

Octavia raised her eyebrow, a small smile on her face, “You think you can find it a little closer to home next time?”

Next time. God they thought she was going to stay, to live here in this mess? “I’m hoping there is no next time.” How is she going to lie to her mother? There is no way in hell that Clarke is going to stay in this overpopulated cage with these weaklings who think justice is cruelty and that mercy means letting them live.

Octavia didn’t seem to buy it, but she did understand what Clarke wasn’t saying, “Good luck.” Wanheda grimaced, fat chance of that.

 

“Clarke!” Abby caught up to her on her way to the mess hall, grabbing her hand to turn her around, “Clarke, oh I’m so glad to see you!” Abby didn’t wait for a response, yanking her into the most suffocating hug yet. Why did it have to feel like she was a prisoner in her own mother’s arms? “Oh God, where have you been? Are you okay?”

Too much. It was all too much and she pushed her mother away with more force than she intended. Abby stumbled back into a wall, wincing as she hit her back on a post.Clarke winced, clenching her fists, “Moba!” She reached out and hesitated, “Yu kei?” Idiot, she doesn’t understand. “Yu uh, yu-” Clarke clenched her hands into fists, what was the damn word? “Yu gon bilaik alright?”

Abby stood up with her hands raised, “Yes it-it’s fine Clarke it happens. I uh, I should have given you a minute to adjust.” She tried to smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. She raised her hand to Clarke’s cheek, “That doesn’t matter, how are you Clarke?”

It was better, much better than before. She felt like she could breathe even if she didn’t feel like she could speak. She nodded, “I’m fine, m-more than fine. Just trying to adjust?”

Abby’s smile reached her eyes this time and she squeezed Clarke’s hand, “You’re really getting into it all aren’t you?” She gestured at Clarke’s clothes, “Speaking the language and everything. It’s, I’m glad you found something that works.”

Clarke nodded, wishing it didn’t sound like she was being rehabilitated. She hadn’t heard her mother talk to anyone like that since Alex Crowe, the boy who tried to hurt himself. They had dumbed down the stories to protect her innocence, to protect them all from the darkness that hid in the corners of the Ark. Her mother was always talking to him like a child, praising him for little steps towards rehabilitation. 

“It’s not…” Clarke sighed, “It’s nice to see you mom, glad to see you’ve all been doing so well, the uh, the farm looks great and the wall. It’s great.” Twelve seconds with her mother and she already felt smaller.

“Yeah, it’s really good to see you too honey.” Abby tried to tuck Clarke’s braid behind her ear, “A few of them are getting loose, maybe I could help you rebraid them?”

Clarke looked down, trying to forget that Asiya had been the last person to help her with her braids and it was all so stupid but she couldn’t get it out of her head that the woman who stabbed her sixty-two times on their first meeting was still a better mother to her now. “Sure. I will find you in the morning. The others are waiting for me.” She backed out of the conversation as quickly as possible, giving her mother a little wave as she ducked into the nearest doorway.

In doing so she ran right into Bellamy. Clarke wanted to scream, she couldn’t take two steps without running into a conversation she didn’t want. At this rate she was gonna run into Emerson, or her phantoms would start talking.

“Hey,” Bellamy steadied her arm, “I heard you were back.”

She nodded, looking down to the floor and feeling like a jerk for being grateful there was no hug. “I’m sorry about Miller, I didn’t realize that was your patrol, I would have picked another I just had to get some information.”

“You could have asked.” He lifted his chin.

“No.” She grimaced, “I couldn’t. I left,” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, “I couldn’t just walk in here and ask for information about Azgeda and then leave again, I couldn’t do that to you. Not again.”

His stance relaxed just a smidge and he leaned against the wall, “Then why did you do it? We just got everyone back.”

Clarke looked down at the floor, “Maybe you did, but I couldn’t see them. All I ever saw were Trikovakru, all their faces… I killed them Bellamy, all of them.”

His arm hooked around her shoulder and squeezed, “You weren’t supposed to go through it all alone Clarke, it was supposed to be us. We were supposed to be in it together.”

“It wasn’t you Bell, we both know that I was the one calling the shots. I was the one who made the call, you just gave me the strength to pull the lever.”

Bellamy gritted his teeth, “Why do you always have to be the princess, in charge and taking responsibility for everything? You aren’t the only one who can make stupid decisions you know, you don’t have the corner on that market.”

Clarke scoffed, “I can agree with you there.” She offered Bellamy a small smile, “We both know you’re the real hothead here.” He let her shove him with a smile, “I just needed time, to find my peace.”

“I’m glad you came back Clarke, we need you here.” Bellamy pulled her into a loose hug, his lips to her forehead. Clarke sighed and sagged against his chest, letting him hold her up. She always depended on Bellamy before the alliance, before they realized the grounders were people. It felt so normal to just let him hold her for a moment.

The moment passed, she stood up on her own two feet, leaving his arms. “I need to go check on my warriors, set up camp. But I’ll see you around right?”

“Yeah, breakfast happens an hour after dawn, join us in the mess.”

“I’ll be there.” She promised. Walking through the camp felt a little more normal knowing that most of them didn’t hate her, that they understood her need for space. She walked out through the open gates to the camp her warriors had set up. It was just a few firepits and a pavillion for shade during the day, most of them planned to sleep under the trees. “Laik osir dula op?” She asked, crouching by Ingan.

_ How are we doing? _

He looked up at her, his mouth in a thin line, “Ai hez Pike op, ai nau wich in em. His people flock to him, they never go more than an hour without checking in with him or his lieutenant.” Ingan glanced towards Arcadia, “I fear that this gift is more evil from my clan.”

_ I have been watching Pike and I don’t trust him. _

“Good, don’t. I watched them last night consulting with him under cover of darkness.” Clarke stoked the fire, her expression a mystery even to her guardian, “I will do my best to gather information, fit in with Skaikru. You work the other side of this Ingan. Heda would not be pleased if we brought these people all the way to Arcadia just for them to stage a coup.”

“You think he will act on his beliefs?” Ingan looked up at her.

Clarke pursed her lips, “I don’t know, but we need to be prepared for any outcome. Until he steps out of line we are just here to help build homes and provide a little extra meat. I’m putting you in charge here until I know more.”

“Sha Wanheda.”


	9. Clarke kom Skaikru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is walking into old territory, and it's time to establish who she is now to everyone, including herself.

Clarke stepped out of Octavia’s room feeling a little suffocated by all the layers of heavy cloth wrapped around her. Denim slacks and cotton blouse covered over top with a leather jacket, all of it in dark colors that had faded from years of use. “Looks like you never left.” The younger girl mused, looking Clarke over. O hadn’t approved of Clarke’s desire to leave her clan garb behind, but she had been willing to help anyway.

“I feel like I’ve been bound and gagged.” Clarke admitted sheepishly.

Octavia snorted, “I guess it has been over a year since you were last here. How long did it take you to join Ingranrona?”

Clarke blinked, “It’s been a year?”

“And four months.” Octavia tilted her head, “Didn’t you know that?”

Clarke’s mind spun. She had spent almost as much time away from the 100 as they had been on the ground together, “I lost track… The days kind of bled together.” She never meant to be gone that long. Clarke found herself tracing the marks that traveled up her arms, safely hidden underneath her jacket. “I never meant to be gone so long.”

Octavia took Clarke’s hand, “We all needed time. I’m just glad you’re home.”

“Yeah..” She nodded, still feeling out of place in time. “I’ll meet you at breakfast, I promised my mother I would let her help with my braids.”

A small hand lifted to touch Clarke’s mane of thin braids, “Bali… They suit you.” The quiet pain reminded Clarke that Octavia knew more than anyone else the pain of suppressing yourself to fit in.

_ It’s a shame. _

Clarke took her hand and squeezed it, “It isn’t forever. I just need to remind them that I was Skaikru once.”

Octavia scoffed and started walking away, “Is it them you’re reminding? Or you Clarke?”

It was an excellent question, one Clarke couldn’t answer yet so she kept walking, losing herself in the exercise. Sound bombarded her from every angle, the echo of footsteps and murmuring voices from every direction was as loud in her ears as the screams of battle, of steel clashing and the cries of the dying. She couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything, it was too much. Too many faces she didn’t recognize. Too many noises she didn’t remember. Everything began to spin in a blur of grey noise.

“Clarke! Clarke look at me honey.” Firm hands on her shoulders, shaking her. Bringing her back. She was in a hallway, wires everywhere, a face swimming above her. Abby. A calloused hand on her cheek, “That’s right, focus on me. Focus Clarke.”

The noise in her ears lessened. Her heart stopped pounding. Cold metal pressed into her knees. Clarke looked around for a point of reference, where were the trees and the grass. She closed her eyes and fought back the rising panic of being in a metal cage, a deathtrap. “Hon daun yu chilness, kik raun, hon hodness up.” She mumbled, clenching her fists on her knees, trying to think of Asiya’s arms tight around her, the soft tent walls moving in the wind and the smell of dried grasses. “Kom smak daun, gyon op nodotiem.”

_ Find your peace, live, look for love. If you are knocked down, stand up again. _

Clarke put a hand on Abby’s shoulder and pushed just enough that she could stand up again, “I’m fine.” She panted, her knuckles white around the arm rail she was using to steady herself.

Abby cupped Clarke’s face, “Clarke you are not fine! You just had a panic attack in the middle of the hallway, you need to come with me, we’ll get you checked out.”

“Get away from me!” Clarke snarled, her hand wrapping around Abby’s throat, slamming her against the wall. The thud of impact, and the shock on her mother’s face were all it took to make her let go, but the damage was done. “Don’t touch me.” She snapped, trying to keep her voice down, to avoid bringing any more attention than she already had. “Don’t touch me.”

“I-I’m sorry Clarke.” Abby was stunned, “I was trying to-”

“Help.” Clarke looked at her, looked through her. “You’re always trying to help, but you never stop to think if your help is wanted, or even needed. Maybe if you stopped trying to help for just a few minutes you would realize that you are the one who needs help. You’ve been running from the moment you got dad killed, and if you gave yourself even half a second to think you would realize that you’re horrified by your own existence.” As soon as they were out of her mouth Clarke regretted the words. All the anger she had held back, shoved down as more important matters made themselves known, just a moment of vulnerability was all it took to bring out the worst in her.

Abby stared at her, “What happened to you?”

She clenched her jaw, knowing what the right answer was, but also knowing it wasn’t the time. “I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a long time, I lashed out.” She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the traces of the fear and the anger that had drowned out her mind just a few moments ago. “I was trying to find you, you wanted to help with my braids.” Clarke chewed on her lip. She couldn’t inflict her presence on Abby anymore, her problems. “I’ll just find Octavia.”

Abby reached out and stopped herself before she could touch Clarke. “Wait, I-I still want to help. I should have known better that to crowd you like that, it’s as much my fault as yours.”

Clarke looked back at her, at the regret and pain in Abby’s eyes and nodded. They walked next to each other in silence to Abby’s room. Clarke sat down on the edge of the bed, ignoring the double bed and the men’s clothes on the chair. She didn’t want to know. “What would you like me to do with them?” Abby asked quietly.

“Take them out. I can redo the ones by my face, it keeps the hair out of my eyes.” Clarke didn’t look at her mother to see, but she could feel the hesitation in her mother’s hands as they cut through her braids one by one, releasing her hair from its bounds.

It was a fluffy curly mess when Abby was done, a far cry from the painted warrior who had arrived yesterday. She looked like a young woman from the Ark.

Clarke sighed, running her hands through her golden locks and winced at the ache of her hair changing positions after being stuck one way for so long. “Thanks mom.” The words felt wrong, but she knew it was the right thing to say.

“Of course… I’m here Clarke, anytime you want to talk.”

“I know.” She walked out.

 

“Better watch out princess, your grounders aren’t here to protect you.” Jasper slammed his shoulder into Clarke as he walked out of the mess hall, his steps unsteady and barely able to stand up straight.

“Is he drunk?” Clarke asked Monty, sitting down at the table.

Monty picked at his food, “I think you mean, is he still drunk. He’s been like that since he got back from Mt. Weather.”

“Oh...” Clarke nodded. “I should talk to him.” She moved to stand and Monty caught her arm, pulling her back down.

“Let him sleep it off. He’ll be back later tonight.”

Raven gave a huff and sat down across the table from Clarke with a big platter of food, “Come on guys, these eggs aren’t going to eat themselves, get a move on.” She passed around the forks and started to dig in, “We can be depressing later with all the questions and shit, for now I want breakfast with my friends.”

Clarke gave her a small smile, “Feels like when we first landed.” She ate eagerly. Eggs were a luxury even in Polis and she’d only had them a few times. “God,” She closed her eyes, “How did you get your hands on chickens?”

Octavia laughed, “Blue cliff needed lumber, so we traded the wood from the north field for a dozen chickens, pretty soon we’re going to have a whole herd of them.”

“I think it’s called a flock when it’s birds.” Monty chipped in.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, “Whatever it is, it’s tasty. We get eggs for breakfast all the time now and I don’t think I ever want to eat oatmeal again.”

“That’s a shame, Asiya taught me how to make the best oatmeal in N’breska.” Clarke grinned, feeding on the happiness in the air, letting herself forget it all for a few moments. “I was gonna make for you guys but I guess if Bellamy’s out.” She shrugged.

“No way, Clarke cooking? This I have to see.” Raven grinned, shoving Clarke’s shoulder, “How much more are you hiding under those braids girl?”

“Nothing much,” She shrugged it off, “Cayson says I’m a talented spika, uh storyteller, and I doubt any of you could beat me in a race on horseback now. Otherwise I’m the same old Clarke.”

“Sure you are.” Bellamy smirked, “Same old Clarke leading the commander’s men, wearing warpaint and riding the biggest horse I think I’ve ever seen.”

Clarke ducked her head, “I didn’t feel like I could come home without some kind of peace offering, it didn’t feel right to come back without something to offer.” It was the truth, more truth than she meant to say.

“You did leave us in the dust.” Monty looked up from his food.

Clarke looked at him, waiting for anger or pain but all she found was sadness. Sadness that she had abandoned them all again, “Monty…”

“I know Clarke. You needed it.” He pushed his plate away, “But we needed you too.”

She nodded, looking down at her food.

Monty got up and patted her shoulder, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Well there goes my happy breakfast.” Raven tossed down her fork and leaned back against her chair. “So what’s the deal, where did all these people come from anyway?”

“Raven it’s farm station, they came from the Ark, you know their faces just as well as I do.” Bellamy pointed out, gesturing to Monty’s mom getting food, Pike sorting scrap. “They’re our people.”

“I know that, I’m just saying I don’t get where they all came from.”

“Azgeda.” Clarke looked up, “They landed in the mountains to the north, picked a war with the Azgeda, got themselves captured to save the children, carted south to be used as leverage against you all. Our people have always been our weakness.” Clarke felt sick to her stomach thinking about how easily Arcadia would have fallen to try to save a few farm station survivors.

None of the others knew what to say. Octavia bit the bullet, “So what happened?”

“I killed their queen, poisoned their army, and negotiated for Skaikru’s safety with King Roan. Their leverage became a gift, their idea of a god damn olive branch.” Clarke shook her head. It felt so wrong just explaining it, like she was missing a part of the story, the part where Roan was just waiting for her to get comfortable so he could strike.

They were still sparring with one another, but this time it was Clarke sitting at a disadvantage. This time he was the one waiting for her to slip up.

“Wow.”

“Damn drama queen, I think I need you to say that again, but like even less emotion there.” Raven laughed, “Could you sound any less interested in all of that?”

The others chuckled under their breath, cracking smiles and breaking the tension. “I don’t know.” Clarke allowed herself to smile, “I could try a bit more.”

“One of these days you’re going to have to stop watching over everybody Clarke, stop protecting everyone and live sometime.” Raven informed her, touching her hand gently, “I’ll be in Alpha hallway if you guys need me, working on repairs so we don’t live in a swiss cheese house every time it rains.”

“Cheers to that.” Bellamy raised his glass to Raven’s retreating back. He downed it and  got up, “I’m on watch today, so I guess I’ll see you at dinner.” He waved and ditched them, leaving Clarke and Octavia alone at the table.

“You have work too?” Clarke asked.

Octavia shook her head, “I guide the patrols, translate if any of the tribes need to trade, with no one doing anything like that, I have nothing but time.”

“Then come with me, we have work to do.” Clarke got up and put their food away, giving the tray to the kitchen crew and led Octavia back to camp.

 

“Ingan! Tel ai op hashta oso flou thru Skaikru.” She called, jumping off her horse and into the middle of the army camp.

_ Tell me how we’ve been working with Skaikru. _

“Wanheda.” Ingan jogged over, looking to Octavia, “It’s gone well with Skaikru, we spent yesterday preparing more food for their new people.”

“Ai wich in Octavia kom Trikru.” She reassured him, “Em ste ai kru.”

_ I trust Octavia, she’s my people. _

He pursed his lips, nodding. “The ones you marked are refusing to work with us, they hide in their metal box and speak to their leader.”

Octavia looked to Clarke with a raised eyebrow and Clarke raised a hand to quiet her, “Don’t fight it, same to the gonas, if we work hard while they hide like cowards then we will be the stronger when they start a fight.”

Ingan nodded, “Sha Wanheda, we could use you here. The gonas see you as an extension of Heda, they would be more patient with you here.”

“I will not baby them.” She replied sharply, “The gonas must learn patience, this is just like any other hunt. We track our prey and wait for them to step out of cover, then we strike.” Feeling the rising anger in Octavia, Clarke smiled at Ingan, “Yu don bos Ingan, machof. Octavia and I will help cut trees for new homes.”

_ You’re the best Ingan, thank you. _

“Come with me.” She muttered to Octavia, grabbing the girl’s arm. She could feel the rage and indignation growing and she needed this to happen away from the ears of her gonas, of Skaikru. Octavia tried to rip her arm out of Clarke’s grasp and she held on tighter, “Come with me.” She growled, dragging Octavia into the woods.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, Octavia ripped her arm out of Clarke’s grasp, “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you some kind of assassin now sent to get rid of Skaikru? What the hell is going on here Clarke?”

Clarke waited for the rest of it all, knowing that Octavia was about to explode.

“Why are you just standing there huh?” Octavia shoved her back into a tree, “At least in Tondisi you were sorry! Did Lexa put you up to this? Is she betraying us? You gonna kill us all in our sleep like some spineless ripa? You left us once, you’ll leave again. You’re pretending to be one of us again, like you have to try on the clothes and fix your hair and everything is forgiven! You left us and things were good, they were good Clarke. Now you’re back and it feels like it’s starting all over again.”

“You’re right.” Clarke agreed. 

The wind left Octavia’s sails and she stood there, panting. All the anger left her in a rush, and she frowned. “What’s going on?”

“I came to make peace with my past. That’s all.” Clarke spread her arms, “I’m not trying to start something, but give you all some closure.”

“Closure? You make it sound like you died.” She scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, hands braced on her hips. It was the same pose she always struck when fighting with Bellamy.

Clarke tried to deny the truth in those words, but most the time she felt like she had died. “Whatever the case, Skaikru is still family. It was time to deal with my demons, escorting farm station was an easy way to do that, and then… Pike happened.” She sighed, tugging at her hair, grounding herself with the ache.

“Pike? The old guy who went crazy in the earth skills class?”

“That’s the one.” Clarke pressed her lips together, “Turns out that crazy wasn’t just a one time thing. He’s sure that the grounders are planning our demise and plotting to kill all of Skaikru.”

Octavia frowned, “So?”

“So he’s been leading farm station in a war against Azgeda for the last two years and now he has access to guns, horses, hydrazine? And his people are constantly back and forth with him, standing around him like Miller and Atom used to guard Bellamy. I wouldn’t be making an issue out of this if I didn’t think he was dangerous.”

Octavia nodded, “Still looking out for us I guess.” She watched Clarke shrug it off and ran her hand through her hair, “Some things never change huh? I’m a loose cannon, you’ve always got an eye out for everyone, and life still sucks.”

“I deserved it.” Clarke replied, picking up an axe and tossing the other one to Octavia, “And you aren’t all wrong. I’m just trying to make sure that Pike doesn’t ruin what you have all worked so hard for.”

Octavia started looking for a tree that would be good. “So that’s why the outfit and stuff?”

Clarke nodded, setting the mark on the tree, “I lay low, play the little girl who ran away from home. Ingan just has to be Azgeda, if they’re angry or suspicious of anyone, it’ll be the Azgeda who ran things for me.” She smirked, “I’m just a kid right?”

Octavia laughed, shaking her head. “You’re evil, you know that?”

“I prefer devious.” Clarke grinned, “Makes me feel better about it all.”

The girls made quick work of the thin trunk, pulling it down with a hank of rope. “I don’t like it. The lying, and the manipulation…” Clarke walked along the tree, chopping off the branches, “But if I walk up and make accusations, or just kill him then I’m no better than he claims me to be. I have to let him move, or his corpse becomes the motivation for skaikru to go to war.”

Octavia looked over, “I don’t think you give us enough credit. We’ve done a lot, made a lot of friends. I don’t think anyone still thinks of the grounders as savages anymore.”

“You forget how easy it is, to kill and keep going. To pretend it’s for your friends and your family. To just keep hurting people because it’s easier than looking back at what you’ve done. I’ve seen that look in the eyes of the people from farm station. They won’t stop. Even if Skaikru won’t go along with it? They’ll do what it takes. We’ve done the same O, and we thought we were doing the right thing too.”

Octavia refused to look up as they lifted the log and carried it back to camp, “You make it sound like we’re all the same.”

“We are.” Clarke hefted the log higher on her shoulder, “They are still back on the dropship doing everything to stay alive O. We made it to Arcadia, they haven’t.”

They spent the rest of their day cutting down trees, talking about all the changes that had occured while Clarke was gone. If Clarke was being honest with herself, she was practicing speaking english, trying to get her accent to go away.

When the light started to dim they called it a night, aching and weary they trudged back to camp to let the gonas know where to collect more logs. After that their only thought was dinner. They stood in line with the rest of the field workers too tired to care about the scent of sweat and dirt that colored the mess hall.

Clarke looked down at her tray as she followed O’s footsteps to their table. Hundreds, no, thousands of eyes were on her. Every person she had ever killed, every person she had ever saved, watching her sit like nothing was different, eating her venison and string beans like she was just anyone else.

You are Wanheda! Their eyes screamed, Demand his end and be done with it all.

The crowds of ghosts parted before Pike, escorting him through the room, judging the lack of dirt and sweat in his clothes. Her blood thundered in her ears and she knew that she could end it all. Her knife was cutting into her skin where her fist clenched down on the metal.

How much blood must be spilled before you deem him worthy to die? The dozen killed by Murphy? The hundreds slaughtered by Jaha? The armies damned by Lexa? Where is the line between man and monster Clarke, when does his body deserve to join ours in the dust?

“Arcadia to Clarke.” Fingers snapped in front of her face and the ghosts looked away, breaking their spell upon her mind.

Clarke looked to her right where Octavia sat as tightly wound as a bowstring, and Raven looked confused. “What.” Too sharp. Chilnes Clarke. “Sorry, I was thinking.” Still to clipped, the words cut shorter even than the rest of Skaikru would speak them.

“I can see that.” Raven raised her eyebrows, “Something you want to share with the class?”

“Probably thinking about the best way to massacre everyone, right Clarke?” Jasper said in passing, making a beeline for the bar.

It hit too close to home, to where her thoughts truly lay. The whole hall jumped at the heavy thud of Clarke’s knife burying itself two inches deep into the wood. Her hand came away bloody from where the chunky metal handle had bit through her skin.

“Clarke don’t.” Raven begged.

Her words fell on ears filled with the buzzing of a thousand ghosts like bees whispering murder and hatred. Clarke stood up, “Better than killing myself with alcohol. Do you drink to forget that you loved her, or do you do it because you can’t deal with the fact that she’s dead?”

The hall went deadly silent.

Jasper turned around with a fire in his eyes. It was a merry dance of chaotic destruction and Clarke was happy to join in. He glanced at the bottle of hooch in his hand, empty from a day of drowning, and slammed it to the ground.

“Come on Jasper, just sit down.” Monty begged, putting his hand on his best friend’s chest, “Walk away man.”

“Get out of my way.” Jasper mumbled, shoving Monty away. All his mind was focused on Clarke, he walked right up to her so close she could taste the booze from his breath.

Ice ran through her veins, chilling her heart to the pain she was causing him. They both needed this. “Come on Jasper,” Clarke taunted, sending a shiver down the spines of those close enough to hear. “Sit down. Walk away man.” She parroted Monty’s words with every ounce of disdain she could muster for this pathetic excuse of a person. “Go drink yourself blind like a good little coward.”

“Oh I’m the coward now?” He threw his arms so wide he stumbled a bit, “You couldn’t even be in the room when you killed them. You sat in your cozy little office while Maya died in my arms!” Jasper screamed, poking his finger at her chest.

She caught his finger and twisted him down into an arm bar, leaning over to whisper in his ear, “That’s right I killed them all.” Clarke could feel the eyes of every person, living and dead on their little display, “But that’s not why you’re afraid to wake up in the morning. That’s not what you drink to forget Jasper. You drink yourself to the edge of death because you know that it’s your fault that Maya is dead, you know she would never have gotten involved if you had kept your distance and it kills you every day to wake up and remember that everything you love wilts and dies. It kills you to see her face right next to yours in the bed with all that trust and hope in her eyes, and then she melts away and you remember.”

Clarke released his arm and Jasper ripped away from her breathing heavily, his eyes full of tears and favoring his arm. “You don’t know anything Clarke!”

“We’re all murderers Jasper.” She replied, loud enough that the mess hall could hear with perfect clarity, “Whether it’s for the culling, or the ring of fire, or the mountain, we all have had a hand in those deaths. You’re just too scared to look into the faces of the people you’ve killed.”

“Fuck you Clarke!” Jasper screamed, pointing at her just as ruthlessly but making sure he couldn’t touch her.

Clarke turned her back and sat back down, “Come back when you’re sober Jasper.” She pulled her knife out of the table and wiped the splinters off on her pants. Her food tasted like ash and when she looked up, Maya was watching her with an expression she had come to expect on Anya. Anger, judgement, and respect.

The others at the table watched her eat with steady hands as blood dripped down her wrist, but being watched was a sensation Clarke was used to. Slowly all the other tables returned to their conversations, but Clarke’s table remained silent.


	10. The Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke struggles to find herself a place with her people just a tad more, right up until Pike suggests a hunting trip with some of his most trusted lieutenants. They meet some familiar faces, and we hear their sides of the story.   
> TRIGGER WARNING for some vaguely graphic descriptions of torture aftermath? I dunno, I don't think its bad but maybe you do and that's fine.
> 
> “What are you going to do?”  
> “Something dangerous and stupid. I might die.”  
> “Then will yourself to live.”

“Pul klin!” Ingan shouted. Clarke watched her men lift the lumber into place for the new mess hall. She ripped up handfuls of grass and scattered it on the wind. She should be there with her men, helping them establish this new village, or in Polis with Lexa dealing with the other clans, but this sitting and waiting was driving her insane.

After blowing up at Jasper, most of the people gave her some berth in the halls, even the guards seemed intimidated by the display. What concerned her were the looks she received from her once friends. Raven had returned to the dirty looks and glares of Finn’s death, a burning dislike that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Bellamy only had disappointment for her, and Monty… Well he didn’t look at her anymore. Octavia was the only one who stuck by her, but it was a tentative thing, waiting for the next time that Clarke snapped. So she made it a point to be in control, out of the training pits, and observing as much as she could. A week had already passed like this and she felt her world balancing on the tip of a knife, swaying back and forth in a gentle breeze that could easily become a hurricane of emotion that sent everything tipping down into an endless abyss even deeper than the one that Jasper lived in.

“Clarke!” Pike came jogging over with a rifle in hand. He’d joined the guard almost as soon as he’d been cleared for work duty and it terrified her. He didn’t speak again until he was next to her, “We’re going hunting on the western edge of our land, I hear you know the area?”

Clarke nodded, “The furthest edge of our land borders on Ingranrona, but you’re skipping out on a lot good hunting ground.”

He held out the rifle to her and ignored her commentary on his choice “Would you care to join us?”

She pressed her lips together, thinking about how good it would look if she really played the part, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t pick up a gun again. “Sure thing Pike, just let me grab my weapons. We’ll save the ammunition for someone who can use it.”

He grinned, “If that’s how you want to play it. I’ll meet you at the gate, we leave in half an hour.”

She hopped off the fence, “See you then.” Clarke jogged off to her tent by the stables, it was one of the few things she allowed herself from home, her tent and the blankets that Asiya wove. Her hands ran over the soft leather walls, landing on the intricate carvings on her bow, the curls of the wind traveling across the body. The bow strung easily and hooked over her shoulder. Knife on her belt. It felt odd to wear her weapons over denim and cotton. As alien as walking on the ground had once been.

Shrugging it off took a little more effort, but she went and brushed Ashdaun and tossed a blanket over her back. “You sure you can even get on that thing?” Bellamy leaned against the edge of the stall with his arms crossed. It was the friendliest thing he’d said since the mess hall.

“Don’t worry about me Blake, I can take care of myself.” Clarke glanced over, “I wouldn’t even bother with the blanket if it weren’t for the way it messes up her hair. She gets weird marks where I sit if I don’t.”

“How do you even stay up?” He scoffed.

Clarke gave him a look that asked if he was joking or just stupid, “I hold on with my thighs, it’s not like we’re going a long way, it’s a few days. This is how it was meant to be.”

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion and gestured to Ashdaun, inviting Clarke to prove herself. She rolled her eyes and braced her hands on Ashdaun’s withers and rump. With a hop, she lifted herself up and tossed a leg over her mount’s back, “See? I’m a big girl and everything.” They both tossed their hair at him and pranced out of the stable, heads held high.

“Sure you are princess.” Bellamy shook his head and went to the wall for his watch.

Pike pulled up to the gate in the rover with three others from farm station. Miller’s boyfriend, Monty’s mom, and another she didn’t know but recognized. They all were part of his inner circle, people she had noted from the first night with farm station. He was planning something. 

Feeling much like she had when she invited Bellamy and Murphy to help her search for Jasper, Clarke asked, “Ready to go?”

Pike chuckled, “Lead the way.”

Wind pushed back against her hair tangling it all up into knots, reminding her that she abandoned her braids for this asshole and his group of fanatics. Ashdaun moved beneath her, charging into the wind, back towards home. All Clarke could feel was regret for betraying her clan every day, claiming to be Skaikru just so she could draw Pike out. She was betraying herself so that she could bait him into hurting someone, just so she could hurt him back. It was all so damn stupid, but she couldn’t think of another way, this was how it had to be right?

During the nights she refused to sleep with the others, instead she ranged out from their small fire looking for anything that might mean them ill, snagging a few hours of sleep during the hours before dawn. During the day Clarke would tie herself to Ashdaun and doze, trusting her horse to know the way home.

The others didn’t question her, but she knew the lack of trust between them was mutual.

Finally a green square in the far distance was the signal for them to stop. Her ear piercing whistle cut through the wind and the noise of the engine, bringing Ashdaun to an easy halt over a few dozen meters. The rover continued for minutes after she stopped.

Clarke stood waiting as eventually the rover made a slow turn around the open field and trundled back, bouncing over the deceptive terrain. “Why are we stopping?” Bryan asked from the open top of the rover, “There isn’t any game here.”

She gestured to the sign, “That marks the edge of Ingranrona lands, I will not help you steal from them. There’s plenty of game on our side of the border, trilipa do not come out of hiding for loud vehicles, we need to leave the rover here and move on foot.”

“Oh while you ride your horse?” Bryan looked less than pleased with the plan.

She pursed her lips and dismounted. “Of course not. Get out of that tin can so we can move while there’s still daylight.”

Bryan tapped the roof twice and the others climbed out to join her on the ground. “Where to princess?” The nickname was growing old.

“Trilipa kamp raun woda.” She gestured to the north, “They stay near water. There’s a lake to the north where they like to graze. It’s an easy hike I promise.”

Pike nodded, shrugging his pack on alongside the others. They all started walking, following Clarke’s lead. Pike walked next to her, “So how do you know about this lake? If what you say is true then the tribe or clan you were with wouldn’t come out here right?”

“Ingranrona is honorable.” She replied, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, “I was the invader in their lands. I found the lake while I was wandering, hunted for food, drank my fill. It would have been a good place to built a home.”

He glanced over, “Why didn’t you? I’ve seen you handle yourself well, and the stories from the others we sent on the dropship have labelled you as quite the survivor. You’re doing well for yourself on the ground.”

“It wasn’t a choice I could-” Movement in the grass. She threw her arm out and sank into a crouch. The others lifted their guns looking for something to shoot while Clarke drew her bow, tracing the minor shift in the tall grasses. Her eyes followed the wind’s trail over the grass and where it resisted against the wind for no reason. “Shoun yu of, o yu bilaik stedaun!” Clarke called.

_ Show yourself or die! _

“Fyucha?” Asiya stood up from the grass.

Clarke heard the click of the rifles as they turned the safety’s off, and she jumped in front of Asiya, “Don’t shoot! She means no harm.”

“Who is this?” Hannah accused, ignoring Clarke’s order.

Clarke drew her bow, aiming directly at Hannah, “Pike you tell her to stand down or we see how many of your people I can shoot before you can put me down.” She threatened, backing towards Asiya slowly, “Nou step au nomon.”

_ Don’t move mother. _

“What did you say to her?” Pike asked, “Who is she?”

“I told her not to move just in case your idiots with guns decide to panic and shoot her.” Clarke snapped, “She’s family, she took care of me when I was sick. I’m not going to tell you again Pike, put your damn guns down.” Clarke changed her aim to Pike’s chest.

He frowned, lifting his weapon up, “Do what she says.” He gestured for the others to lower their weapons, “Clarke, we aren’t going to just kill any random person but she is trespassing, we are within our rights to point guns at her.”

“You can’t just point your gun at everyone around here, too many shoot without thinking.” Clarke snapped, hooking her bow over her shoulder and running to embrace Asiya, “Nomon, ai toli mema we yu.” She hugged her tight, burying her nose in Asiya’s shoulder, breathing deep. The smell of alfalfa and sheep’s wool, the dyes that Asiya used, it all brought tears to Clarke’s eyes.

_ Mother, I missed you very much. _

Asiya laughed, trying to hold back tears of her own, “Ai taik yu oso hit choda op nodotaim fyucha. Teik ai chek yu au.” She held Clarke at arm’s length to look her over. Her smile fell a little bit, “What are you wearing? Your braids...”

_ I told you we would meet each other again child. Let me look at you. _

Clarke looked down, shame coloring her cheeks. “Ai nou koma yu, en osir kru.” She mumbled, “Ai nou rein in gon gada in tat kom Ingranronakru.”

_ I dishonor you and our clan. I’m not worthy to carry the mark of our clan. _

Asiya lifted her chin with a small smile, “Branwoda goufa, I did not tend to your wounds and teach you to ride because you wore the braids of our people, or looked well in our colors. You’re family.” She kissed Clarke’s head and held her close.

_ Silly child. _

Clarke hid her face in Asiya’s neck, “Thank you.” She gave herself just a moment to breathe in the smell of home and to bask in the peace that Asiya alway brought before she stepped back. Clarke sniffed, wiping away her tears, “What are you doing here?”

“I heard stories of Wanheda, and her victory against the Azgeda. I was going to Skaikru to congratulate you on your triumph.”

A huge grin split Clarke’s face, “Of course you did. Osir hon daun trilipa gon kamp raun the lake. Oso bilaik toli koma, yu step klin kom osir?” She offered.

_ We are hunting the deer that live by the lake. We would be very honored if you would come with us. _

“Are you sure you can hold your bow?” Asiya teased.

“Trilipa nou holla au gon ai.” Clarke replied, ducking her head, “You were right.”

_ The deer won’t speak against me. _

Asiya tucked Clarke’s hair back behind her ear, “Oso step klin, ogeda.” She let out a whistle and her horse stood up from the grasses and trotted over, headbutting Clarke’s shoulder. Asiya pulled her bow off Nulif’s back and slung it over her shoulder. “Where is Ashdaun?” Clarke pointed and Asiya let out a low whistle tone and Nulif tossed her head and began running for the rover.

_ We walk together. _

“You taught her directions too?” Clarke raised her eyebrows, “And I thought ‘come here’ was a difficult lesson to teach.”

Asiya grinned, “You are just a child with a horse as stubborn as you. Nulif and I have been together as long as you have been alive.”

Pike cleared his throat, reminding them of his presence. “Oh! Nomon, these are skaikru gonas, Pike, Hannah, Bryan and Troy. This is Asiya, she is going to help us on the hunt.”

The others looked to each other and none of them looked pleased, but Pike raised his hand just a touch to stop their protests, “It’s a good idea. Learning to hunt from those who live here is the best way to be proficient at it ourselves. We aren’t in the mountains anymore, things run differently here.” He turned back to Clarke and Asiya, “It would be a pleasure to have you on.” Pike held his arm out to her.

Clarke bit back a warning and tensed as Asiya walked over and clasped Pike’s forearm, “Thank you for keeping watch over my daughter.”

“Cool, nice to meet you lady, I’m guessing the face tatts are a family thing. Can we go now?” Troy snarked.

Asiya narrowed her eyes at him and Clarke felt her stomach sink. There was too much mirth in the way she held her lips closed for just any kind of retribution. “Good luck.” Clarke muttered to him. “Let’s move.”

They all shouldered their weapons and marched out, Asiya walking next to Clarke at the front of the group. Only a few minutes of the two grounders walking without a sound while the others stomped through the grass behind them had Clarke grinding her teeth. “Chilness fyucha, hogeda goufa souda dig au strechplei.” Asiya bumped her arm playfully, “Even you.”

_ Calm down kiddo, all children must learn how to walk. _

Clarke nodded, unclenching her jaw just a bit while Asiya continued to smile, “Goufa dig au get in kom ai em op. Just wait.”

_ Children learn from watching. _

Clarke thought about how she had learned everything from shooting an arrow to walking through the trees. It was over three hours of walking before she noticed the difference. Clarke looked over her shoulder and saw Hannah and Troy walking in her footsteps, trying to copy the way that she walked, while Pike and Bryan followed Asiya’s path. 

The amount of concentration on their faces was almost adorable, all of them trying to be quiet. It was still so loud that Clarke felt like they might as well be wearing strings of bells, but it was quieter, less grinding on the nerves.

By the time the sun was beating down overhead, they had reached the lake. Deer meandered around the water’s edge, relaxing in the shade of the trees on the far side. Pike began pointing out each of their targets, then held up five fingers. Four, three, two, one. Clarke and Asiya’s arrows flew early, hitting their targets at the same time as gunshots cracked the air. The deer scattered into the trees, the whole herd disappearing in a few seconds. 

Four of them dropped dead, but the fifth let out an anguished scream and dropped to the ground, thrashing in pain.

Clarke was up and sprinting across the field before the others even realized they had only injured one of their targets. She pulled her dagger from its sheath as she skidded to a stop by the thrashing animal. “Shh, you’re gona be okay. It’s okay, shhhh.” She soothed the beast. The deer quieted its cries and stared at Clarke with wild eyes, chest heaving with panicked breaths.

“Yu gonplei ste odon.” She promised, stroking the beast’s neck as she carefully inserted her knife at the base of its skull. “Machof.” The deer went limp and Clarke released the breath she was holding.

Bryan slowed his jog across the pasture, stopping beside Asiya as the other Skaikru guards ran past to make sure Clarke was okay. He’d caught the words she spoke, even though he didn’t understand them. “What was all that about?”

“She was thanking trilipa for giving its life for ours and performed death rites.” Asiya explained quietly.

“Why? It’s just a deer.”

“And you are just a child with a gun.” She replied placidly, “Your life is no more meaningful than theirs. We respect their sacrifice for all life is sacred.”

Bryan rolled his eyes, “I’m way more important than some stupid deer.”

“Oh?” Asiya raised her eyebrow. “Do skaikru cause the sun to rise and grass to grow?”

He snorted, “Those are natural processes. No one causes the sun to rise, those are based on physics and biological laws.”

“But the deer carry seeds for new growth in their dung, and trim back the edges of the forest with their foraging. They churn up the land so the grasses grow taller. Their carrion feed the worms and birds. Their bodies feed the wolves and lions that would otherwise hunt my people. In return for all of this, we keep them in check so that they will not grow too many and plague the very land they depend upon. What do you provide for this world?”

It was all said in the same peaceable tone of a mother to an outspoken child and Bryan responded by clamming up. He folded his arms over his chest, staring at the ground but Asiya didn’t leave it like that. She rested her hand on his arm, “Chilnes, I am not angry. I only wish for you to understand. All in this world are dependant upon one another for life to continue. We must respect this and maintain the balance or all will die in the endless wars of those who came before.”

He nodded, relaxing into a more easy stance, “Sorry for being an ass.”

Asiya chuckled, “I have raised many goufa to be gona, including Wanheda.” She gestured at Clarke who was helping to clean the deer, “You remind me of them.”

“What does that mean?” He frowned, “You called Clarke a goufa before.”

“It means a child. Gona are those who choose to die in battle.” She grinned, “Clarke is my fyucha, a different kind of child. One who will continue my duties when my fight is done.”

“Wouldn’t your own child fill that role? You train your children to take your place right?” Bryan never realized how curious he was about the grounders until he had one just there to answer his questions. It wasn’t a position he ever thought he would be in.

“My husband died in battle with Skaikru, a battle he entered as revenge for the death of our daughter. Clarke exchanged her life for that of my daughter without hesitation, and I will always honor her sacrifice. I will always mourn Tanaka and Heybram, but she has given me a new future to look to.” Bryan spent several minutes shifting uncomfortably while the others cleaned their kills, “Speak youngon.” Asiya’s smile was audible.

“Why don’t you hate her? Or us?” Bryan blurted.

Asiya stared out over the endless grasses of her home for a long time. The mirth of a few moments ago was gone, replaced with serious consideration. “I did.”

Bryan couldn’t understand, how could she stop hating them all just like that? How could anyone end that cycle of pain and death. “What changed?” His voice was pleading, and it spoke to a more personal desire than just understanding the grounders.

The woman ran her thumb over the worn blade on her belt, “Ask Clarke about her scars. All of them.”

Bryan blinked in surprise, looking over at the girl slicing open a deer’s belly and for the first time he noticed the raised bumps on her arms, “You did that?”

Asiya shook her head, “Only sixty two were at my hand. I had my revenge after only two, but I kept cutting at her request. Long after the blood of a child dripped to my elbows, I kept cutting. I don’t know if she felt pain but I did. Some fools claim that blood must have blood so that they may have petty revenge, but Wanheda understands.

“We shed the blood of the guilty so that their souls will have peace. The souls of the innocent would haunt them until the end of all, when the ground becomes ash and trees refuse to grow.” Asiya clenched her hands into fists, trying to think of a better way to explain it.

“So it’s mercy.” Bryan asked, “A way to let them pay for what they did?”

Asiya nodded after a moment’s thought, “The truly evil will do it again and again until they die for their sins. Those who have made a mistake have a chance to become human again.” She left Bryan to think about that and went to help the others begin to skin the deer.

“You know,” Pike stood up to catch his breath, “It’s going to be dark in a few hours, we could always camp by the lake, maybe get a few more deer and head back in the morning.”

“It’s a good plan.” Wiping blood off her hands, Clarke stretched, “I can get the rover and the horses while you set up a fire, get dinner going?”

“I’ll get the fire going.” Troy volunteered.

“I can dress this one for dinner.” Hannah kicked the hock of one of their kills.

“It appears we know what we are doing.” Asiya grinned, pulling out a tinder kit from her belt and tossed it to Troy. “Use that. I will gather herbs.” She wandered off towards the lake’s edge.

“Perfect.” Clarke tried to quiet the worry in her heart. No one would hurt Asiya in the half hour she would be gone. She just needed to remember that and breathe. Two fingers to her lips and exhaling sharply was all it took. A few minutes later Ashdaun came galloping into view, looking positively thrilled to be running all out again. Another whistle and she began a slow turn, directly into Clarke’s outstretched hand.

The others paused their work to watch her body ragdoll into the air and twist to land atop her horse and charge off in the direction they’d come in the first place. “Holy shit…” Hannah mumbled.

“You teach her that?” Bryan followed Asiya.

The woman shook her head, “She spent two weeks sitting outside our tent, watching our gona practice. That is how she prefers to learn. Waiting and watching until she understands.” Asiya snorted, “She then spent another week getting run into by Ashdaun, or losing her grip and being flung into the air. She had more bruises than brain cells for quite a while.”

“That’s quite a bit of dedication for a girl who wanted to run away.” Pike mused.

Asiya looked over at him, “Then you misunderstand her. She was never running away from her people, she was looking to become a person again.”

When Clarke returned, the fire was roaring and their dinner was rotating on a spit over the dancing flames. She parked to rover just on the edge of the light created by the flames and came to sit down and warm herself. Eyes roved until they landed on a bright headscarf, and Clarke allowed herself to breathe again. Asiya was setting up her tent, their tent from N’breska. The last pieces were being secured on the poles, soft leather stretched up to a thin cone. Inside she could see the bright woven blankets of her nomon’s bed.

“It’s hard seeing home and feeling a stranger, isn’t it?” Pike said softly, sitting by Clarke.

She shrugged off the tender words, “First the Ark, then the dropship and Arcadia, every place that I’ve ever tried to call home has ended up feeling alien, but the people… The people always welcome me back.” At first, until they remember how much they hate Clarke for making the hard choices.

He nodded, tossing a bit of grass onto the fire. They sat together quietly while to food cooked, silence stretching out past that to eating. It wasn’t until after they had eaten and Asiya had retreated to her tent that Pike finally spoke again. 

“Have you ever seen snow?” Clarke shook her head, sensing the beginning of a story.

“It’s like tiny pieces of frozen fluff that melts on your tongue, if you move quickly enough you can pack it into all kinds of shapes. Snow was the first thing we saw on the ground. We landed in a drift so deep that it cushioned our landing. Of course when the first of us climbed out of the station we were…” Pike cleared his throat, “It was beautiful, blinding white sparkling in the sun. The air was warm enough that it didn’t burn to breathe.

“All the kids ran out to play and throw snow, their parents joined them, laughing and breathing in the air. It was so thick that we couldn’t even think straight. We laughed so long and so hard that… The noise must have brought them.

“Monty’s father Allen was the one who saw the trap.

“Twenty-three people died that day including Allen. He dragged six people to safety, only to get an arrow to the side on the seventh trip. Poison finally claimed him after hours of writhing in pain.” Clarke felt his pain, the anguish of watching the hundred get picked off one by one without any way to defend themselves, it was a familiar kind of suffering.

“My wife tried to sue for peace at every turn. She tried to trade or protect those we captured. I heard the Blake girl did similar things.”

Clarke felt the impending doom in his words, the inherent mourning of everything Bellamy worried would happen to Octavia every time she ran off. Even though she knew what happened, she needed to ask. “How did she die?”

“Painfully.” Troy snapped, “At the hands of your grounder buddies.” He shot an angry look at Asiya’s tent. The woman was already fast asleep, otherwise Clarke knew she would have stepped out of the tent to defend her people.

Pike raised his hand, “Peace.” He looked back to Clarke, “She went to a village near where we landed to try and get medicine for the Coopers. My wife didn’t return for three days and when she did? It was in pieces. Those monsters left her head on a spike at our front door. Her arms and legs were just tossed aside, shredded so badly we didn’t know if they were even human. I found the rest of her inside the smokehouse, curing with the rest of the meat.”

His body shook with anger or horror. Clarke felt bile rising in her throat. “She was flayed. That means they cut the skin off the muscle layer. The next day we burned the village to the ground while the hunters were out, leaving them all to die of exposure.” His hands clenched into fists, “We all learned a lesson that day, and it’s one that you need to learn too. These people are monsters, and I won’t stop until we are safe. We tried for peace again and again and they didn’t even consider the idea. They started killing our women and children, torturing anyone they captured… You can’t do that to someone and still call yourself human.

“I know you have met some who have been proven to be civilized in the right circumstances.” He gestured to Asiya’s tent, “Even that Lincoln fellow seems a good enough sort, but these grounders all hide a beast that only understands blood. I won’t let our people live in fear that the monster is going to come for them.”

“Then you choose to become the monster you hate so much?” Clarke asked, trying to get him to realize that he was just lowering himself to the same level as the monsters he feared.

“It’s a price I am ready to pay for the sake of my people. Our people. Clarke you are still one of us.” Pike put his hand on her knee. He knew that no child should be made to listen to the horrors inflicted on Farm station and he saw the toll it had taken on her, but she needed to understand that she was taking sides in a war.

“That is your story Mr. Pike.” Clarke said softly, surprising the others with the strength and conviction in her voice, “But you haven’t heard mine.”

“Nathan and the others filled us in on what happened.” Bryan interjected.

Clarke smiled at him like she would at a child who forgot they were supposed to be playing the silent game, all derision and annoyance. “Nathan guarded the dropship before they were all trapped in the mountain. Bellamy is the only one who could get even close to knowing what happened, and even he missed so much.

“The first people who died were in the crash. A pair of boys who refused to put their seatbelts back on after Finn showed them how to take them off.” Clarke shook her head, “We buried them before we had our first meal or drink of water. The next wandered off from the ship to find a private spot, they died in the acid fog. Then Atom didn’t run fast enough for shelter after the grounders sounded the horns for the fog.

“I had to slit his throat.” Clarke rubbed her thumb over her bicep, “He was still alive the next morning, hours after the fog passed. No one else could do it, even when he begged so I took my first life. Grounders died next. We lit flares to tell the Ark we were alive, trying to stop the culling, instead we burned down Asiya’s village. Then when we tried to talk peace with Trikru, we shot their vanguard out of the trees.

“We blew up the bridge that survived ninety-seven years of nuclear apocalypse and killed children just to postpone the war that we started. I got to personally watch the death of a twelve year old girl that we-” Clarke shook her head, trying to calm her panicked breaths, “That was just to buy us a few nights of restless sleep. Then 300 more dead grounders who sought retribution. You know they only hurt those who trespassed on their lands? The only innocent person to die was Wells, and that was at the hands of a little girl who hated Chancellor Jaha so much that even the face of his son was enough to haunt her.

“We killed three hundred and eighty-one mountain men, killed all of them for forty-six children, warriors captured during a war and harbored by our enemies. We deserved to die in that mountain, instead we all became murderers and heroes. That victory allowed us to build an alliance with the grounders. Skaikru is respected because of the power we showed in defeating the mountain on our own.

“Farm station didn’t deserve what happened, I’ll never pretend that what they did was just. It should have been Arcadia, but they were afraid, and rightly so. Skaikru has caused death and destruction on the ground ever since we arrived. The congeda has been gracious to allow us to live, let alone as one of the clans…” All thanks to Lexa, her efforts to make up for leaving Skaikru to die.

“When I fight for peace it is because I know that we are all dripping in the blood of our crimes, blood that is owed to the victims of our rampage, and they have chosen not to collect.” Clarke stopped, letting the air out of her lungs slowly, reminding herself to breathe again.

Silence set between them all. Pike leaned his elbows on his knees, staring into the fire’s mesmerizing dance, “You’ve been through a lot Clarke, and you’ve saved our people from more than one war. I just…” He paused, trying to phrase it properly. “I’m not looking for revenge, I’ve already taken that out on the ones who killed my wife. By all accounts we made them suffer for every victory they had on us. But I need you to remember what they claimed when they called for that poor Collin boy.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes, “Finn wasn’t a poor boy. He murdered eighteen people in cold blood. Children and elders that were only trying to escape. On the Ark he was going to be floated for costing air, air that might have saved three hundred lives from the culling. Jus drein jus daun is not some savage thirst for blood, it is justice for the victims, and penance for the guilty.”

Pike raised his hands in the face of her intensity, “You say it’s justice, I’ll believe you. You’re the local expert now, just tell me one thing and I’ll drop this.” Clarke nodded her agreement to the deal, “What happens when they call for the ocean of blood that you yourself say we owe them?”

Blue eyes closed in defeat. He found the one point she couldn’t argue with because she agreed. Until blood was paid, there was always going to be a chance that the other clans would demand justice. Justice that Lexa would have to dispense. “There has to be a better way than waging war. Too much blood has been spilled already.”

“I’ll leave that up to you Clarke, you’ve done some great things for us down here, maybe you’ll come through for us again. But I am going to prepare our people for the inevitable.” His point made, Pike and his people stood, going to their bags or the rover for their watch.

Clarke retreated to her tent. Ducking low under the soft walls, she looked over this piece of home. Asiya asleep on a nest of leather and hand-woven blankets decorated with the patterns of birds in flight and horses running free. Two bows unstrung in their quivers, laying next to the bright fletching of their arrows. If Pike had his way, this wouldn’t be her home anymore, Asiya wouldn’t be her nomon, Skaikru would use violence to avoid justice yet again.

Sensing the heavy air in the tent, Asiya lifted the blankets for Clarke and patted the ground as a groggy invitation. One Clarke was not going to refuse. They nestled into the soft nest and Asiya spoke with a sleep heavy voice, “How did it go?”

“Skaikru owes blood, he fears paying the price and seeks to avoid raitnes with force.”

“And what will you do?”

Silence filled the tent as Clarke tried to find an answer that would satisfy everyone, herself included. Asiya’s breaths became deep and even against the girl’s shoulder, but she could not sleep. Her mind spiraled down a hundred paths that all led to some kind of war between the clans and a shattered congeda.

Morning arrived and Clarke couldn’t remember sleeping, her eyes were glued to the spot where her knife hung. When she felt Asiya begin to stir, the idea that had begun in the night took root in her mind, pushing her to action. “Will you help them finish the hunt?”

Asiya nodded, her nose brushing Clarke’s shoulder. “What are you going to do?”

“Something dangerous and stupid. I might die.”

“Then will yourself to live.” She squeezed Clarke’s waist, “I will wait for you with Skaikru until you are finished.”

Clarke let out a bark of a laugh, “I suppose it’s just another day then.”

“Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim.”


	11. Love is like a horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke explains her idea, and defends it, again and again and again, because Skaikru.  
> Also there's never enough Clexa, so I put in some fluffy stuff too.  
> Fair warning, from this point on I make up a lot of stuff about grounder history and  
> tradition and mythology, so if you don't like flaming panted writers who make up  
> canons to solve their issues then you have stumbled upon the wrong fics my duckies.

Clarke made her excuses to the others in the morning and whistled for Ashdaun from the pasture, mounting at a full gallop. Her body cut through the air like an arrow through the wind. Blood boiled in her veins and her heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come. Phantoms flew with her, moving faster than she thought possible to lend their strength and approval to her decision.

It was freeing to think that soon she would no longer carry this burden, no longer have to defend the actions of her people. She would burn for them one last time and all would be laid to rest. All the souls lost since she took leadership of the hundred would have justice and Clarke would finally rest.

No time passed at all before Ashdaun was charging through the gates of Polis. Clarke leapt to the ground and nearly slid into the chest of one of the tower guards, “I have business with Heda.” She gasped, taking a step back.

The guards traded looks and stepped aside without a fight. It was more than Clarke had expected, but she nodded her thanks and jogged to the elevator, letting the men below know she needed the top floor. She bounced with nervous energy all the way to the top, wishing she could have just climbed the damn thing instead of waiting. The doors creaked open and Clarke rushed out, going straight for Lexa’s rooms.

Spears crossed before her and she called out, “Lexa!”

“Let her pass.” Heda’s voice cut through the heavy door like paper and Clarke grinned as the guards stepped out of the way again.

She felt giddy, walking into Lexa’s rooms Clarke felt like she could fly. Lexa was in the process of standing from her desk when Clarke grabbed her and kissed her, “I figured it out. I finally know what needs to happen to fix everything.”

Lexa staggered a step, surprised by the enthusiastic greeting, “What did you figure out?” Her eyes roved over Clarke’s body, taking in the now unfamiliar hair and clothing. It was dizzying trying to remember who Clarke was allied with on a daily basis, let alone when she was bouncing with energy, “Just, stop that, and talk to me. What are you fixing?” Lexa put her hands on Clarke’s shoulders to still her.

“The war with Skaikru. Those people Roan sent to Arcadia have gotten everyone twitching at shadows, saying that congeda is going to make us answer for the crimes committed before the alliance. They’re ready to start a war over it all and I figured out how we can stop it before anyone even draws their weapons.”

The commander took a step back, sitting on her desk, “Skaikru is preparing for war?” She took a breath, collecting everything Clarke had spewed out in a rush and made sense of it all so quickly it was nearly inhuman, “They have no need to fear retribution from us, all was forgiven when they entered the congeda, your council and ambassadors know that.”

Clarke shook her head, “You don’t understand. Skaikru has no sense of loyalty, or honor. Justice is death or forgiveness with no inbetween. Our leaders change with the passing seasons. If one leader makes a decision we do not like we change leaders. The people don’t trust the congeda. We need to build trust in the people.”

“I thought that was what returning their people and building their homes and everything we have been doing was supposed to accomplish.” Lexa rubbed her temples, feeling one of her many headaches begin to pound.

Clarke took a breath, calming the furious motion in her heart so that she could do this properly. “Heda,” She lifted Lexa’s chin, meeting her gaze with such intensity that Lexa couldn’t bring herself to even breathe. “I ask you not as Clarke kom Skaikru, your friend, I ask as Wanheda, commander of death and former chief of Skaikru. Allow me to show my people the justice of Congeda.”

Even if her brain allowed her to think, Lexa couldn’t imagine a time when someone had made a request with such deep feeling. Her lips moved without bidding while her heart told her that something was desperately wrong. “Of course, anything.”

“Ai as klin soulou gonplei tiya brolgeda kom raitnes.”

_ I demand solo combat in the battlefield of justice. _

The commander blinked and her calm shattered. “Clarke are you insane? You’ll die! That’s not just any solo combat, you would be fighting the greatest warriors of all the other clans to grant them justice for crimes you didn’t even commit against them! They would fight you just to gain the power of Wanheda, you would not be showing your people justice but a massacre. Who even told you about brolgeda kom raitnes? We haven’t had brolgeda since I was chosen by the flame. Has your guilt addled your brain so much that you think being maimed or killed for the choices of your people is justice?”

Clarke straightened, her hands falling from Lexa’s face to her sides, “Ai nomon tel ai hashta brolgeda. Skaikru laik hedsweden gon loda wamplei gon ai hedon. My people must learn what strength is, and your people must see that we will answer for each and every crime as commanded by our Heda. I have shed enough blood for my crimes, and I have settled my debts with the dead, but skaikru has not paid the price.”

_ My mother told me about the battlefield. Sky people are guilty for a great deal of death by my order. _

Lexa began to shake her head and Clarke interrupted her, “Lincoln told me that if death has no price, then life has no value.”

Lexa closed her eyes, she couldn’t bear to see Clarke suing for her own death, wanting to throw herself away for those fools she claimed as her own people. How they could not see how much she loved them, it was a crime in itself. “They are the ones who do not understand the law, let them pay it.” She asked softly, only barely keeping herself from begging.

“I once asked you for the same mercy.” Clarke swallowed hard, “Finn killed those people for me, and I killed more for Skaikru.”

Lexa let out a shaky breath, knowing what was required of her. “Then you will die for them.”

Clarke smiled softly, “No, but I will bleed.”

Green eyes looked away, and she scoffed, “Of course.”

“Hey,” Clarke moved her head, trying to catch Lexa’s eyes but the commander refused to look at her, refused to be any weaker in this moment than she already had. She had to do something to distance herself from this disaster of a woman. “I once wished for the day when we owed nothing more to our people, not because I begrudged them your love but because I did not feel that we could have more than just survival in a world where we were torn between our people and ourselves. After brolgeda kom raitnes, I will owe them nothing.”

Lexa rested her head on Clarke’s shoulder, fighting off the hope and the fear and the pain that all threatened to overwhelm her. “If you die, I will never forgive you.”

Clarke laughed, holding Lexa close, “Then I will not die.”

“How can you be so cheerful about this?” Lexa looked up at her, eyes red.

“No matter the outcome, I am free to live or die as I will with whomever I will.” She kissed Lexa softly and there was no goodbye in it, no hidden sorrow or fear for the future. “After brolgeda kom raitnes I am free to be yours.”

“Oh..” Lexa looked a little stunned, “Does this mean we are friends now?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Clarke promised.

“In that case, you’re a spichen branwoda.” Lexa slapped Clarke upside the head.

_ Damn idiot. _

“I deserve that.” She snickered. Her gaze rose to Lexa’s, “You will call the brolgeda?”

Lexa looked down, her shoulders falling as the fight left her as quickly as it had come, “Yes. It will take a week to gather all the champions, but you will have your brolgeda.”

“One last request.” Lexa looked so tired when she nodded, “May we hold brolgeda outside Arcadia? So that the people can see.”

“There is no arena.”

“I will get Ingan on that.” Clarke shrugged.

Lexa threw her arms up in the air, “Of course you will.” She shook her head, “Perhaps I should just give you the flame and let you run Congeda, you clearly feel no qualms in ordering our people how to act.”

Clarke raised her eyebrow, “Wow, I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“It has been a very long day Clarke.”

“Then let’s call it a night. I can talk to Cain and Ingan tomorrow.” Clarke brushed Lexa’s hair behind her ear, “Let me take care of you for once.”

“You take care of everyone.” Lexa snapped back without thinking.

“It’s genetic. Come on.” Clarke pulled Lexa to her feet and urged her to the bathroom. She turned on the hot water in the bathing pool and while it ran, she took her time undressing Lexa. “Stop that.” She smacked Lexa’s hands away from her shirt.

“You are taking forever.”

Clarke lifted Lexa’s arms up for her like a child, “It’s about the experience, relax.” The commander took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying not to feel like she was being rewarded for ordering the death of the woman she loved. Instead she focused on the feeling of Clarke’s fingers unlacing her corset easily, unhooking the buttons and hooks on her clothes as each layer fell away, taking some of her stress with it. Soft lips pressed to her shoulder as the last of her clothing fell to the floor.

A hand took hers, tugging her towards the tub and it was almost an effort to open her eyes again. Night air cooled her bare skin, raising goosebumps before she slid into the hot bathing pool. Heat soaked into her bones and she almost didn’t recognize the moan that escaped as her own.

Strong hands lifted up her dark mane allowing her to sink into hot water up to her chin and gentle tugging warned her that her braids were being unwoven.

Clarke continued her ministrations on Lexa’s hair, breathing in time with her commander until she realized that the older woman was asleep. The blonde couldn’t help but smile at the sweet image before her. She finished rinsing out the soap and dried Lexa’s hair in the heavy cloth hung by the pool for just that purpose. The rest of her would just have to dry in bed.

The brunette didn’t stir until she felt herself being lifted from the water. She clung to the shoulders holding her up and saw Clarke smiling at her, “Go back to sleep.” Soft lips pressed to her head and Lexa nodded her agreement, nuzzling her face into Clarke’s neck.

Clarke laid her down in the pile of furs that was the commander’s bed and couldn’t help smiling at the hand that clung to her wrist. “I’m not going anywhere.” She assured the mostly asleep woman before prying the hand off of her. Clarke returned to the bathroom, wiping up the trail of water and cleaning up the pile of clothes off the floor. When all was set the way she had found it, Clarke returned to the bedroom and slipped between the furs.

Barely a moment had passed before Lexa rolled over and wrapped herself around Clarke. They fell asleep together with no hesitation, all thought of the future lost in the feeling of being together.

While they slept, word of Brolgeda kom Raitnes spread through the capitol like a wildfire and by the morning all the ambassadors had already sent out their fastest riders, and Polis was buzzing with talk of who the champions would be.

Morning dawned on tangled limbs. Green eyes were the first to open and Lexa watched the hint of a dream play across Clarke’s face, face twitching between worry and a smile so quickly that she couldn’t decide if it was a good dream. Lexa leaned the few inches to Clarke’s mouth and pressed their lips into a kiss.

Clarke hummed, tightening her embrace on Lexa just enough to make her smile. This beautiful, powerful woman was all hers. In a week’s time, nothing more would stand between them. “Taim kom stomba raun hodnes.” Lexa murmured, brushing a tangle of blonde locks away from her favorite blue eyes.

_ It’s time to wake up love. _

“Ste em soncha?” The words climbed through sleeping lips like a fat frog from a well.

_ Is it light already? _

Lexa bit back a grin, “Would I wake you if it were still dark? We have work to do.”

“Rid op.” Clarke put forth great effort to roll them over so that Lexa was her pillow, just to emphasize her demand.

_ Go back to sleep. _

“Clarke.” Lexa tried to sound serious as she shoved at Clarke’s surprisingly heavy frame, “Clarke get up, I have duties to attend to.”

An exaggerated snore was the only response and Lexa laughed, flopping back, “You’re impossible.”

Clarke nodded, “And you’re too awake.”

Despite her grogginess, a soft knock at the door had Clarke rolling off the bed and standing by Lexa in a fighting stance. The attendant started, but quickly cleared their face of all emotion. “Heda, hogeda bandrona gafen kom chich yu op.”

_ Commander, the ambassadors need to talk with you. _

Lexa sat up without regard for her nakedness, “Send for someone to help Wanheda prepare.” She commanded.

The attendant nodded her understanding and left the room. “What’s this about?” Clarke asked, straightening up.

“I imagine it has something to do with Wanheda racing into Polis under the cover of darkness and my yelling about a Brolgeda kom Raitnes.” Lexa shrugged on a black shirt and leather pants, war gear.

Clarke noted the choice, “Expecting trouble?”

“The last brolgeda was followed by a conclave.”

Oh. “The commander also participates?”

“I am the representative of all the clans. Normally I would be a champion of my clan, but the Congeda strictly forbids it. Any clan that feels they have been wronged by my actions will have the right to challenge me.”

“They’re going to come after you for Mount Weather aren’t they?” Clarke felt her heart sink. It was one thing to risk her own life to set up peace, but if anything happened to Lexa… If it was her fault… There would be no coming back from that. “I will be your champion.” Clarke offered, “Please they can take their frustration out on me.”

“Nau won trou daun gon ai.” Lexa’s was sharp and resolute. “If I die, then my spirit will choose another.”

_ No one fights for me. _

Clarke grabbed her by the collar, “If you die there is no coming back for either of us.” All the strength and power that had filled her, all the desire to fight had gone away. She couldn’t risk Lexa being hurt on her account.

Her anger melted, and Lexa’s gaze softened as she covered Clarke’s hands with her own, “Then I suppose we will have to fight for each other.”

Clarke bit her lip and nodded. “With everything we have.” She couldn’t risk it.

“Heda?” Both women stepped away, the tension in the room broken by a different kind of awkwardness. The attendant had returned with a friend who held some of Clarke’s clothes. She recognized the colors, and before she could say anything, the woman smiled, “I had Ryza get your clothes from your bags Wanheda.”

“Thank you Niylah. Ryza you will help Wanheda with her braids.” Lexa instructed, taking on the mask of the commander as easy as breathing. “Niylah my armor.” She looked to Clarke, reminding her that they would have to be strong before their people, would have to behave as their titles demanded. Like commanders.

Clarke allowed herself one last worried look before she concentrated on explaining Ingranronakru braids to a member of Sankru. By the time her hair was done, Lexa had already donned her armor and Niylah had finished her complex braids as well. “Thank you, I can dress myself.” Clarke nodded to Ryza, changing into fresh clothes in the time it took for the two attendants to disappear.

“Ready?” Lexa raised her eyebrow.

“Always.”

  
  
  


The council was short. It was a formality really considering that the only person who didn’t know about the Brolgeda was Kane. Being a good diplomat, he waited until all the details of when and where were settled. Kane wasn’t the only one surprised by the suggestion that it take place in Arcadia. Thankfully Heda’s word is absolute, and when she said the location was final, her ambassadors did not argue anymore.

Once the council had nailed out the details, all but Lexa and Kane were left alone for a brief moment. “Clarke, you should be here to explain.” Lexa called, bringing Wanheda from the antechamber where she had stayed to listen. “If you will excuse me, I need to organize the champions of Tri-kru with Indra.” Lexa looked between the Arkers for some sign of malcontent. When she found none, she decided to leave.

Heda’s shoulder brushed Clarke’s and Kane caught sight of Clarke squeezing the commander’s wrist so briefly. He wondered if he had imagined the intimate moment. Clarke took a deep breath and met Kane’s thoughtful gaze. “Do you know what Brolgeda kom Raitnes is?”

He shook his head, “I know the words mean a battle of justice, but it feels like there is more significance to it than that.”

“You’re right. Brolgeda is a ritual that has existed as long as jus drein jus daun, it is something that none of the clans would dare dishonor,” She leveled him with a pointed look. A silent warning. “Long before the Congeda, commanders in the past knew there had to be a way to bring peace between the tribes. A way to settle old scores without full on war.”

Kane’s eyes lit up with understanding, “A tribunal.”

“Of sorts,” Clarke agreed, “Each clan chooses three champions to represent them, and the clans confess their crimes.”

Kane frowned, “What happens if a clan doesn’t feel they have committed any crime?”

“Then they admit innocence,” Clarke knew what he was thinking, and she did not look pleased. “If anyone feels wronged, this is the place to speak it. It’s not about feeling guiltless Kane, it’s about the victims feeling acknowledged, and finding peace in justice.”

His eyes narrowed in response to the passion in her voice, “You suggested this.”

“It’s time for Skaikru to pick who they will be. Either we will be part of this,” She gestured out the window to the bustling city of Polis, “Or we are like the mountain men, manipulating and killing these people to evade the consequences of our choices. We need to face our crimes and see that we are not guiltless before anyone. No matter what Skaikru chooses, they need to see that we have done some awful things and decide from there if we will take responsibility for it.”

“And where will you be standing in all of this?”

“With the hundred, as their champion, one last time.” Clarke was subdued by the weight of the things she did to protect the hundred.

Kane thought about her behavior when the Ark first crashed, doing her best to protect everyone and applied it to the reports of the cafeteria incident. Her cold-hearted outburst that somehow put Jasper on the road to sobriety. “You talk like this will be your death.”

“Brolgeda is the end of Clarke kom Skaikru,” Her voice was like ice. “I will answer for the atrocities that I commited, but I will not be a part of a clan that uses guns and thinks that prison is justice. I will not be a part of a people who do not understand the honor in death.”

Kane put his hands up, “What if we learn from this? What if everything you want happens and we change who we are, learn respect for life, would you come back?”

Clarke knew it wasn’t an idle question so she gave him the most honest answer she could. “Whoever is left behind, whatever I am after all of this. I still have family in your clan and that will not change.”

Kane sighed, but he understood where she was coming from. Clarke was just another prisoner until her dreams were interrupted with a choice, the choice to take care of her people or let nature take its course and somehow… Somehow this child had changed all their lives. Saved all their lives. 

After the culling he wanted to leave it all behind. He could only imagine she felt the same after all the lives lost in the mountain. 

“A lot of our people will think it’s a savage display.”

“Then convince them.” Clarke clasped her hands behind her back, “Because Brolgeda is going to happen, right outside the gates of Arcadia. And if you think for a second that we would survive dishonoring this, then know that I would rather have a fistfight with pauna than take your punishment.”

“Well that’s encouraging.”

“I was never very inspiring,” Clarke smiled, “I’m more interested in results over people feeling good. Hence our current situation.”

He barked out a laugh, “I suppose you’re right.” He smiled at the strong young woman trying to do right by her people, “When do you return to Arcadia?”

“As soon as we are done here.” Clarke rocked back on her heels, “I must oversee the construction of an arena while you broach the subject of the Brolgeda with our people and find us some champions. You should know that they will only fight if I fall, but it is still a position that garners respect. Choose those who are trusted by our people, and whose ideals align with yours and it will serve you well.”

Kane narrowed his eyes, “You sound like you already know who you want.”

Clarke smiled, “I lead no one. You will have to choose your own champions chancellor.”

He pinched his nose against the building headache, “Go, I have to think.”

Clarke did as she was told, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.  _ Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. _ She did not envy him his crown one bit.

 

“Ingan!” Clarke leapt off her mount and jogged the remaining dozen feet to her right hand man, “We have work to do.” She grinned, clasping his forearm.

He snorted, taking in her cheerful demeanor, “Is that all I am to you Wanheda?” He yanked her into a quick hug and landed a solid slap on her back before releasing her.

“Of course not! Yu don bos.” She was overflowing with an energy he had never seen in her before. “I trust you to take on any dula I give you. That’s why you are going to build a ring worthy of Brolgeda kom Raitnes before the next crescent moon.”

His expression went from smug to shocked in a few words, his eyes darted from side to side and he leaned in to hiss, “Heda has called for a Brolgeda?”

Clarke bobbed her head, “Can you do it?” She sounded like a child enjoying a conspiracy, not a woman calling for all the clans to air their dirty laundry.

Ingan ran a hand over his face and turned to look at the gonas under his command. “Lincoln!” He shouted, waving the burly man over. “Halt construction on the meeting hall. Move all the materials to the south side of the lake.

“But we’re almost done.” Lincoln looked between them like they were crazy.

“We need it for an arena and dais for the congeda. Thirteen chairs and flags as well. Heda is coming to settle the blood.” Lincoln muttered a word that Clarke didn’t recognize and ran back to his crew, shouting orders in Trig to his men.

Clarke looked to Ingan, her folded arms and raised eyebrow a clear question. He nodded, rubbing his neck, “It will be close, but we will get it done.”

She smiled and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “Machof Ingan. If you are in need of anything, speak with Kane, this is our first priority.”

The man turned a shade darker, looking down at the ground, “I was worried when you did not return with Pike.”

“I’m sorry.” She rested her hand on his arm, waiting for him to look up, “I should have left a message with you.” He nodded and Clarke realized that she trusted him. Any time she had a concern or a frustration she trusted it with him. He wasn’t just the bell around her neck anymore.

“Go,” He nudged her, “Before rumors spread to Heda that you are not hers anymore,” He teased. “I’m sure that Skaikru will need your guidance.”

She laughed, “Good luck swela-ringa.”

_ Bell around my throat. _

 

Clarke made her way to Alpha corridor slowly, trying to avoid the overwhelming feeling of being trapped that always caught up with her here. The sound of a welding torch led her to Raven. Clarke stood back a respectful distance, averting her eyes until the sound of the welder stopped. “Hey, I know you aren’t a huge fan of me after what happened in the cafeteria, but I need to talk to you and the others. Together, preferably.”

Raven’s jaw clenched and unclenched while she looked Clarke over, noting the return of the braids and the wrap style clothes. “Fine.” She pointed at Clarke with her torch, “But only because your second mom is cool.”

Raven watched with glee as Clarke went from timid to mortified, laughing at her so-called badass friend. She still hadn’t forgiven Clarke for being a bitch but even Jasper would admit he needed to hear what she said.

“What did she say?” Clarke’s voice was like a train riding the emergency brake into the station.

“Just a few stories.” Raven smirked, “I’ll get the others together for dinner and we can talk then.”

“Perfect,” Clarke nodded to herself, “Meet me by my tent. I’ll cook.”

“Not oatmeal?” Raven had her suspicions about what they were going to talk about and bribery didn’t make her feel any better. Clarke shook her head, “Fine, your tent at sundown, this better be good Griffon.” She flipped her visor down, effectively ending the conversation.

Clarke turned around, more than just her head spinning with everything she needed to do. The high of her impending freedom was dying down under the weight of her next conversation.

Dread built in her chest with each step towards the woman who had once been her mother. She couldn’t decide on the point when she started fearing conversations with her mother, or when fear had turned to hatred. But she did know that everything changed the day she learned who really turned her father in.

Jackson rounded the corner and Clarke had to shut down that train of thought for another time. “Clarke!” His surprise stopped him in his tracks and Clarke did the same, waiting for him to say something. “You- uh, your mom, Abby, er, Dr. Griffon is waiting, uh, she’s in there. He jabbed a finger at Abby’s office and scurried around her as fast as his legs could carry him.

_ Thanks. _ Clarke thought to herself. If she didn’t already feel like a foreigner in her own home, Jackson really drove it home. She rounded the corner and found the door open with concerned mutters emanating from inside. Clarke could picture her mother going over files with one hand to her head, scanning the paperwork at light speed for something to help.

It was a familiar sight from the Ark, one that brought a hint of homesickness to her heart. Longing for a time that could never exist again.

Clarke steeled herself and stepped into the office, taking note of the lack of doors and windows. The medicine cabinet in the corner explained the security measures, but despite it all Abby made no effort to be aware of her surroundings. “Yu tali wich emo.”

_ You trust them too much. _

Abby’s fist slammed on to her desk and she spun around with a scalpel. The moment passed and Abby dropped the blade to the ground, “Clarke I-” She looked horrified, “I didn’t mean to…”

Clarke barely twitched at the knee-jerk response and hoped that someday Abby would understand. “I’m no goufa.” She retrieved the scalpel and set it on the desk next to her mother’s arm. “I wanted to talk.”

“A-a what now?” Abby shifted away from the blade.

“En uh, Branwada, en youngon, it’s…” Clarke scratched her head, “Child!” Her face lit up for a moment before she realized that she just yelled at her mother, “Sorry, goufa is like a child, someone who is too young to be trained in a craft yet.”

“Guess that makes sense. So, what did you want to talk about?”

Clarke folded her arms and leaned against the door frame to observe her mother. The lack of eye contact and hands that never seemed to sit still. “In a week we are going to hold a ceremony outside the gates, a ritual to cleanse the Kyongedon jus, uh grounder blood, of pain. It’s a larger scale version of the ritual they held at Finn’s pyre.”

“How does it work?” Abby was already skeptical.

“The clans air their complaints and they hold a trial of blood, it’s a way to avoid war.”

“Very civilized.” She scoffed, “When are you going to understand that bloodshed isn’t the answer. You can’t just take your anger out on someone who isn’t even responsible.”

“We bear it so that our people don’t have to.” Clarke knew she would happily take death by a thousand cuts to keep her people from paying for her choices.

“We? Clarke you can’t seriously be thinking about joining this!”

Did anyone trust her to take care of herself? After everything she had done, all her accomplishments no one really trusted her to survive. Not even after living on her own for over a year did anyone think her capable of surviving. “I didn’t come to you for this conversation. I just didn’t want you to be surprised when I step forward as our champion.”

Abby latched her hand on Clarke’s bicep and stood, yanking her daughter back into the room. “We are going to have this conversation Clarke! You’re a mess, you won’t talk to your own mother, you’re having panic attacks in the halls and every time I see you it’s because Lexa has convinced you to take another suicidal mission.

“I’m not going to just sit back and let you kill yourself and I’m definitely not going to let you replace me with some strange woman on a horse!”

Everything finally came together and Clarke saw all the moments leading up to this. The second guessing and control tactics, imprisoning her to stop her from acting. This shamble of a woman wasn’t trying to save her daughter, she was trying to put her in a rusty cage of guilt.

“Listen closely mother,” Clarke seemed to stare into the doctor’s soul, “Clarke Griffon is dead. By your hand and the hands of Markus Kane, Thelonius Jaha, and the rest of the planhaka council that decided to kill a hundred children for a few weeks of air.

“Jake Griffon is dead. By your hand. These are crimes which will haunt you forever. You aren’t going to  _ let _ me do anything Abigail. You are going to sit your ass down an odon yu dula gon oso kru.” She turned around and left before the tremor in her heart could spread any further.

_ Do your duty to our people. _

“Clarke! I-” Abby raised her hand but her daughter was already gone.

Clarke couldn’t deal with all of this. No one trusted her but they all needed her to solve their problems for them. Clarke stepped out into the open air and filled her burning lungs with air. Her hands shook and she could feel it spreading up her arms. She couldn’t keep doing this for them, letting her people compromise her soul for their own selfish desire to remain blameless.

The world lurched. Clarke realized she was walking once more into a land inhabited by ghosts. Sentinels for the pain she couldn’t share. Witnesses to the emptiness of a woman who gave all she had and more. Did she even want to explain Brolgeda, her choice again?

Her feet carried her to the place where her tent normally stood alone, but it wasn’t. Another lay beside it with three large pots she recognized from the dropship. They steamed lazily, covering the cloth entrance with a thin mist. She walked to the edge in a trance, scooping up the flat stirring stick. Without thought or reason behind her actions, Clarke began stirring for the sake of a familiar task. For the sake of anything mundane.

Clarke hefted the large bundles of wool and clothe by each vat and set them into the water, slowly mixing them into the dyes. The first bundle began to color the pale green of dying grass. The second was red as blood, a color only gained from the poppies from shallow valley. The final pot was for her, she knew it as well as she knew the deep green dye within. Asiya refused to tell her what was inside the mix, said it was a secret magic she kept just to make Clarke smile, and it did. Every time Asiya made her deep green dye it brought a smile to Clarke’s lips.

Clarke smiled as she watched the dark liquid swirl in the sunlight, changing cloth from a pale grey to the same vivid shade as the forest’s shadows. A green without end that she could fall into forever and be satisfied. The same green as Lexa’s eyes.

Clacking wood startled Clarke out of her reverie and she turned from her stirring to see Asiya working at her loom. “Yu ste roufit fyucha. Chit gon daun?”

_ You are troubled child. What happened? _

Clarke took that as permission to seek comfort and sat down behind Asiya, resting her back against the older woman with a sigh. “Ai nou get in right now. I just don’t.”

_ I don’t understand _

Silence was her reward. No more questions or choices, just acceptance that she had no answer.

After a few minutes of quiet, Asiya resumed her work. Clarke could feel the clacking of the pieces just as well as she could hear it. The consistent rhythm soothed her aching heart. It brought back the sound of birds and the smell of fresh water on the cool breeze. She could feel the slow buzz in her arms from the sun trying to cook her skin. Skin that refused to darken no matter how much time she spent outside.

“Hodnes bilaik steltrona, em laksen gon hon op.” Asiya mused.

_ Love is like a silent runner, it hurts to force it. _

“Love is like a horse?”

Asiya laughed, full body laughs that shook both of them, “Steltrona! Nou gapa, it is… ” She snickered, “It means you cannot make love happen, you will only hurt those you care for.”

_ Steltrona, not a horse. _

The older woman looked over her shoulder at the child leaning against her, seeking shelter from the storm in her heart. “They will understand in time fyucha. Hon daun  yu chilnes, en  yu hapones.”

_ Find your own peace and happiness. _

Clarke turned and hugged Asiya tightly, “Machof nomon.”  
_Thank you mom._

“Yu laik ai fyucha Clarke, nau chof ai. Kik raun gon yu, dis bilaik ai hapones.”

_ You are my child, don’t thank me. Live for yourself, that is what will make me happy. _

Hours passed them by in silence as Clarke tried to absorb what Asiya had said and take it to heart. Her mother worked her look with contentment in every aspect of her. Her daughter was strong and capable, and with time she would love herself again. All Asiya needed was patience to wait for the sun to rise on Clarke.

Clarke was the first to move, “I’m having some people join us for dinner nomon, I uh, I need to explain to them my decision.” Asiya hummed to let Clarke know she had heard and continued working, she had faith that she would discover what Clarke was doing in due time, and that was all that mattered. Clarke smiled to herself and left a kiss on Asiya’s head before leaving to collect the materials she would need.

“Soup? You’re trying to win our love with-” Octavia tried to dip her finger in the broth and got smacked with a ladle, “-Hey! I just wanted to taste it.” She flopped on the grass with a pout to rival Indra’s glare.

“It’s not done yet. You have to wait like everyone else.”

Octavia huffed, “You’re worse than Indra.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment Clarke.”

Clarke smiled at her friend, “We both know it was.”

“What do we know?” Raven tossed herself to the ground with as much grace as a sack of potatoes.

“That Octavia compares me to Indra.” Clarke grinned, sprinkling a bit more salt into the soup.

“Sounds like a crush to-OW!” Raven pouted, nursing her bruised knuckles.

Clarke raised her spoon, “Does anyone else want to get smacked? I’ll tell you when you can taste the damn soup.”

“Asiya she’s being mean!” Raven yelled.

“Tattling already?” Bellamy chuckled, sitting down between his sister and Clarke. He glanced at Clarke’s threatening spoon posture, “I take it we aren’t allowed to taste it?”

“See? Bellamy gets it.” Clarke shook her spoon at the other two.

“Don’t trust it!” Ingan called, “Wanheda dina laik skrish!”

“Say that to ai faisnes! Jok of swela-ringa!” Clarke stood up and shook her spoon at him.

Asiya walked out of her tent and grabbed Clarke by the ear. “Moba! Tali moba nomon!” Clarke bent over trying to keep her ear attached as Asiya made her sit down by the fire and took the spoon from her.

“Oooooo somebody’s in trouble.” Raven grinned. Octavia was trying to contain her giggles at what Clarke had said.

Asiya muttered to herself while she tasted the soup. Deeming it ready, she began serving up bowls of it to everyone there. Bellamy accepted his with a smile, “Am I allowed to know what she said?”

“She told him to screw off.” Octavia giggled, “And then she called him a throat bell?”

Clarke shrugged, “Inside joke and he called my food skrish.” She looked over at Asiya, “He deserved it nomon.”

“My fyucha will not use that language.” Asiya replied, passing Clarke a bowl of soup.

“So I gotta ask, and you can tell me to stuff it if it’s too personal, but why would you want Clarke to be your fyucha?” Octavia said. Clarke glared at her and O raised her hand, “Come on man, you’re a gona, like hardcore gona, she makes pretty blankets and clothes. Not exactly compatible trades if you feel me.”

Asiya smiled, “It is better to have an unexpected fyucha than none at all.” She bumped Clarke’s shoulder, silently telling her to calm down, “Your fos could explain it far better than I.”

“Indra doesn’t have any kids.” Octavia wrote it off immediately, but Clarke saw the look in Asiya’s eyes and wondered when she would have met with a Trikru warchief.

“Disha dina nou gon ai, it’s for Clarke to warn you. You may ask your questions when the embers are dying.”

_ This dinner isn’t for me. _

“Warn us about what?” Bellamy sat up straighter, putting his bowl aside.

“Calm down.” Clarke sighed, “It’s not like that Bell. No one’s threatening us, and nobody’s going to die.”

“Not yet.” He muttered.

“You’ve been listening to Pike,” Clarke narrowed her eyes, “So did I.”

“Clarke you can’t be serious. That guy’s a paranoid warmonger.” Octavia interrupted.

“Oh my god, let the girl speak.” Raven snapped.

Clarke sent a mental thank you to Raven and tried to get back on track. “I talked to Pike and he’s not wrong to be afraid, there’s a lot of bad blood between us and the other clans and he’s worried they’ll strike against us.”

She raised her hand, “I know that would break Congeda, but Azgeda was ready to do it, and so might some of the others, so we are calling a Brolgeda kom Raitnes.”

The others looked to Octavia to explain but she just shrugged, “I don’t know what that is.”

“Judgement. Each clan has champions represent them and fight to reclaim their honor. The fight ends when blood is drawn. No one dies. No wars are fought. It’s a day to honor the strength of each clan and to bring them back together after hard times, after Brolgeda there will be a week long celebration. It’s a good deal.”

“Let me guess, you are one of our champions.” Raven said.

Clarke nodded, “You would be right, I’m no stranger to bleeding for our people, and in the end I made those choices and led our people into the storm. It’s only right that I pay for the choices I forced on you.”

“You don’t have to keep doing this stuff alone you know.” Bellamy sounded so sad, “I was there too, Raven built those flares, and without Monty we never could have killed the mountain.”

She smiled at him, “You all were right there with me, and I’ll never be able to repay you for that, but… I don’t know. I think if I let myself believe that it was your fault I would hate you as much as I hated myself, and no one deserves that.”

“Hey, let’s not hate ourselves shall we?” Raven scooted over to lean against Clarke’s side, “I happen to think we’re pretty awesome and can avoid the hating thing okay?”

Clarke rested her head on Raven’s shoulder, “That’s why I wanted Brolgeda, to settle things once and for all.”

“To clean the blood.” Octavia murmured, looking into the fire, “Gives us a fresh start, all of us.”

Bellamy looked between them all, even the grim look on Asiya’s face, “Is this real? Can we really wipe it all away?”

“No Brolgeda has ever passed without death,” Asiya stood up, “But after each one, all the clans have been joined in brotherhood for years, the last Brolgeda led to the formation of Congeda.” Asiya dusted off her hands and went to the tent with all their eyes following her.

Clarke looked down, “Kane will be back tomorrow to give everyone the official announcement and hopefully to announce his champions.”

“What weapons are allowed?” Bellamy said.

“Close range, no bows, no guns. Just you and an axe or a sword or a knife, first blood wins, and the next fight begins. Each champion has two sekens to take the place of the fos should they become too injured to continue. Brolgeda does not end until all blood has been paid. Afterwards we will celebrate, tradition states a week long party.”

“Now that I can get behind.” Raven laughed, “Sounds pretty fair if I’m being honest with you.”

They chuckled quietly, but they knew what Asiya had said was a warning, a reminder that sometimes vengeance outweighed justice. “When will Heda be here?” Octavia asked.

“As soon as Trikru has chosen their champions. A day, maybe two.”

“What will you do Clarke?”

“Train our champions, get them passable, make such Pike doesn’t muck this all up.” Clarke snorted, “The usual.”

“That settles it then,” Octavia got up to grab a second helping, “Tonight you are going to relax.”

“I brought the hooch.” Raven grinned, lifting a bottle from her backpack.

Clarke laughed, “You planned this?”

“Course we did princess.” Bellamy said, “You’ve been doom and gloom from the beginning, it’s about time you learn how to loosen up.”

 

In the morning they woke up in a pile around the dead fire with heavy blankets wrapped around them and heads stuffed with cotton. The feedback of the speakers cut through the haze in their minds with pure pain before it was replaced with Kane’s voice, “I’m so sorry for the interruption to your work, but I have an announcement to make. Please gather by the garage in one hour. Thank you.” His voice cut out with another bit of feedback.

“Ugh, what a wake-up.” Raven groaned, rubbing her eyes.

Clarke hummed her agreement, sitting up slowly. Octavia’s arm fell away from her side and once Clarke’s head lifted, Raven was able to sit up too. “Bellamy, O, time to get up.” Clarke slugged Bell in the side.

“Ugh!” Bellamy curled up on himself, “Jerk.” He glared with bloodshot eyes.

“You’re the one who thought Monty’s moonshine was the best way to go.” She chuckled, her voice low to keep from aggravating their headaches. “Eat, it’ll help.”

He muttered to himself about women being a bunch of jerks and never drinking again while he dished up the cool soup from last night for himself. Clarke smiled and tucked Octavia’s hair behind her ear, “Overdid it a bit huh?”

“Maybe a little.” She croaked, wincing at the sunlight.

“Come on, let’s get some food in you.”

It took a bit of coaxing, but they pulled themselves together, got themselves some breakfast and made their way over to the garage. Of all of them, Clarke had the most stable footsteps and the clearest eyes, which meant she was the one that Raven and Octavia grabbed if they tripped.

Bellamy managed to walk on his own, courtesy of many nights spent drinking and going back to his post in the morning, but none of them looked like they were in fighting shape. “Long night?” Pike sidled up to them in the crowd around the garage.

Clarke looked over, “You could say that. Still jumping at ghosts?”

“Always.” He nodded to the crowd before them, “You have something to do with this?”

“I found a solution, a real one, not just a strong maybe, but something sacred. They would rather feed their own people to the mountain than break it.”

“And they agreed?” He look at her skeptically.

Clarke nodded, “They have their reasons, but it clears all the clans, not just ours. Any issues you have with Azgeda, or Trikru or any of them, it all has to be put away.” She didn’t like that their reasons involved dethroning Lexa, but Pike would probably see it as a lucky bonus to the whole ordeal.

“Think it’ll work?” Pike rubbed his jaw, considering the possibilities.

“I know it will.” She gave him a hard look, “If you can keep your people under control and help them understand, we will be the thirteenth clan with lands and rights and everything we could need.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then god help you, because I won’t.”


	12. I bear it....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For just a moment we set aside the angst and impending doom of everything for our regularly scheduled fluff. The girlfriend returns, and the ever important introduction to the mother. With just a hint of 'well dang, this is kinda never going to stop'.

The faint thunder of hooves in the distance brought a pause to Clarke’s movement, one that was quickly taken advantage of. Bellamy grabbed her arm and flipped her over his shoulder, she landed on here back, still focused on the herd moving towards them.

Clarke grabbed his arm as she hit the ground and curled herself into a ball, using her momentum to pull Bell onto his ass with her. His body slammed to the ground between her legs and she ignored the pain of his weight landing on her. Clarke wrapped her legs around his throat, locking one arm under her thigh and the other was trapped in her hands, being bent back just to the edge of discomfort.

“I give! I give!” Bellamy tapped out after only a few moments in that position. “Clarke!”

“Oh,” She let go, “Sorry.”

Bellamy wriggled out of her grip and got to his feet, “What was that?”

Clarke stood up, “The clans are arriving…” As soon as the words were past her lips Clarke was racing across Arcadia, dodging past animals and people alike to make it to the woods.

“Where is she going?” Bellamy turned to the other champion for Skaikru.

“Hell if I know.” Pike tossed his apple core to the side, “Clarke will figure it out, until then I want you to show me that throw again.”

Bellamy shook his head with a smile, one hand to stretch his shoulder out, “Go easy on me, she hits hard when she isn’t pulling her punches.”

Pike chuckled, “Does she hit hard or are you a wimp?” They sized each other up and started sparring again.

Just inside the forest’s edge at all levels of the trees Clarke waited with her gonas, the whisper of ‘Heda’ echoing between the men. She could feel the excitement that had been growing over the last two days. It made her heart pound and her senses tuned to the growing thunder of hooves that echoed in the trees between them.

Only ten minutes passed before the first of her warriors let out a hoot that began to pick up as more and more of her men saw the entourage. As soon as Lexa’s white horse appeared between the trees, Clarke joined them in welcoming Heda home. “Lid Heda in hou!” Clarke commanded. They dropped from the trees and waited for Heda to pass them before joining the throng.

_ Lead the Commander home! _

Clarke was the only one to walk by Heda’s side, looking up to her commander, “Monin hou Heda.”

_ Welcome back Heda. _

Lexa looked down at Clarke with worry in her eyes. She reached down to rest her hand on her steed’s neck. Clarke glanced between Lexa and her hand before reaching up to set her own palm over Lexa’s. As far as anyone else could see, Wanheda was guiding the horse, but they knew, they let the fear and worry in their hearts go for little while.

Once they exited the forest Clarke did have a hand in leading Lexa, gesturing to the lakeside where two tents stood bleached from the sunlight. “You can set up camp by ai nomon. The other clans will have to settle around the lake and forest.”

Lexa nodded, barking out a few orders that Clarke only barely understood as setting up camp by the lake. Half the entourage split off with a few carts full of tents and bedding. The rest of the entourage headed their separate ways, some to the woods to hunt, others to the training grounds, both the old ones and the new circle that was being dug for the Brolgeda. The only Trikru that remained were Indra, Nyko and their personal guard.

They passed the remains of the Ark and Clarke pointed out Octavia for Indra, “She’s been translating for our traders and riding along with the scouting missions.”

Indra’s eyes narrowed, “I suppose it’s time to see if she has become weak.”

Clarke tried to suppress her smile and she glanced up in time to see the mirth in Lexa’s eyes. “I’m sure she would be happy to oblige her fos.” Clarke said, the words all the excuse Indra needed to dismount and find her seken.

Nyko paused, looking Clarke over carefully, “Tanaka?”

She turned, having the decency to look abashed, “Tanaka bilaik ai strisis, I did not wish for Kyongedan to know that Wanheda had returned, not yet. I’m sorry for lying to you.”

_ Tanaka is my little sister. Grounders _

“I understand Wanheda.” He gave her a small smile, “I would understand even better if you could tell me where you found those herbs you gave me.”

Clarke laughed, “After Brolgeda I will take you.”

“Machof, I-” He glanced at Clarke’s hand still on the commander’s mount and ducked his head, “I think I will go find Abby, we will need more than one healer to care for the champions.”

Clarke watched him leave with a small smile, “And I thought we were subtle.” Lexa squeezed her hand gently and Clarke shook her head. “My tent is over here, we can speak freely there.

Lexa dismounted by Clarke’s tent and offered the reins to Ryder. “The stables are just over there.” Clarke pointed to the building just a dozen meters away.

“Go, Wanheda and I will be safe.” Lexa assured him.

“Sha Heda.” He ducked his head and led the horses away with the other guard.

Clarke squeezed Lexa’s hand, pulling her into the tall cone shaped tent and closed the flap behind them, “Chit kom au hodnes? You look worried.”

_ What happened love? _

Lexa shook her head, pressing herself into Clarke. “There is too much to worry about. I can feel their plots moving around me like armies waiting to strike the moment I let my guard down.”

Clarke held her tight, eyes falling shut. How could she help Lexa when she had run away from the same problem, the same fear of those around her striking back. “I’m here. No one is going to hurt you while I’m here Lexa.”

Lexa said nothing, but her hands became fists in Clarke’s shirt. It was a silent plea to never leave, begging her for something safe. Clarke backed up slowly, pulling Lexa with her and sat in the nest of furs that had been her bed for so long now. The bed she had never shared with anyone until now. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk.” Lexa tightened her hold on Clarke’s shirt, hiding her face in Clarke’s shoulder. “Distract me?” Soft lips traveled up Clarke’s neck with a desperation for escape.

Clarke sighed, tracing circles on Lexa’s hip with her thumb, “I promised you I wouldn’t distract you hodnes, but you don’t have to be strong here, not for your people and not for me.” She kissed Lexa’s forehead gently, wishing she could take away the pain that hid just beneath the surface of Lexa’s skin.

Lexa began to shake and a circle of damp cloth began to spread from Clarke’s shoulder. They rocked slowly in the safety of their little tent, this little kingdom of two. “I’m so tired Clarke.” Lexa finally pulled away enough to look into blue eyes.

Clarke brushed away the tears that lingered on Lexa’s cheeks, “I know. It’s too much for just one person.” She smiled softly, “But you don’t have to be alone anymore, yu kru laik ai kru now.”

_ Your people are my people. _

“Ai kru ste don get daun.” Lexa scoffed, “The Yujlifa bandrona is planning something, I just don’t know what.” She sighed, letting her head fall to Clarke’s shoulder again, “Brolgeda brings together a great deal of angry clans into one place, it’s asking for trouble.”

_ My people are the worry. The Broadleaf Ambassador _

“Nou Brolgeda na gouthru thau wamplei.” Clarke quoted Asiya, “But it will bring peace.”

_ No battlefield can pass without death. _

“I hope so.”

Clarke stayed silent, holding Lexa close. Eventually she began drawing patterns along Lexa’s back, but its only purpose was to give her something to focus on. There was always going to be something, especially with Lexa. She couldn’t just leave her responsibilities for a year to find her peace, Lexa would always be at the front of every conflict. Clarke would have to be here for her through it all.

As soon as the thought occurred to her, she realized that it wasn’t a chore, or some kind of daunting task. She wanted to be there every time Lexa broke down, standing between her and the rest of the world.

Lexa looked up when the sound of clacking filled the air, “What is that?”

Clarke blinked her way out of the mindspace she was in and recognized the sound. “Ai nomon, she likes to weave in the afternoons.”

Lexa looked up at Clarke, gauging her smile, “Could I meet her?”

Clarke grinned, “I don’t think I would hear the end of it if I didn’t introduce you.” She planted a kiss on Lexa’s cheek, “Come on, I’ll need to mix the dyes anyway.”

“The great Wanheda mixes dye for her nomon?” Lexa teased, “What happened to leading armies into battle and solving the world’s problems?”

“Ai nomon happened.” Clarke chuckled. She held the tent flap open, “Heda fos?”

Lexa raised an eyebrow and walked out, “You’re acting odd.”

Clarke shrugged with a grin, following Lexa out of the tent with a hand on her lower back. “Nomon,” She called, “This is Lexa, ai sadrona.” Lexa turned her head towards Clarke, with a look of surprise.

_ Mother, this is my girlfriend. _

Asiya looked up with a smile, “Heda, I’ve heard a lot about you.” She stood up and offered her hand to Lexa.

A few moments passed and Clarke looked to Lexa who was frozen. Asiya’s smile faded just a tad and Lexa stepped forward, “It’s an honor to meet you.” She clasped Asiya’s forearm tight, and something seemed to pass between them before Lexa stepped back again, “Truly an honor.”

Asiya shook her head, “There is no honor in meeting a weaver woman Heda, only work to be done and stories to share. Why don’t you help ai fyucha with the dyes, she can show you how to mix them.” She patted Lexa’s arm and sat back down to her loom.

“Am I missing something?” Clarke could tell that something else had happened between  Lexa and her nomon. “Lexa do you know her?”

Lexa glanced over at the woman humming to herself at the loom and shook her head, “I have never met her before today.” There was a subdued tone of awe in her voice that had Clarke scratching her head.

“Okaaay?” She opened the basket with all of Asiya’s dyes, “Which colors do you want?”

Lexa looked over Clarke’s shoulder, “Are there any blues?”

Clarke suppressed a laugh, “Yes. Pour this into that pot over there.” She passed Lexa a cup full of powder and filled two more for the other two vats. “We can do a few different shades for Asiya to use tomorrow.”

They worked together to mix in the dyes, Lexa glancing back at Asiya on occasion while Clarke watched her fidget. She held out for half an hour before tugging on Lexa’s wrist, “Okay you are officially the one acting weird. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing Clarke.”

“Clearly it isn’t.” Clarke frowned, “Talk to me... Please?”

Lexa shook her head, “I mistook her for someone else.”

“Who?”

“She wears the mask of someone from an old story, not many would dare to tattoo themselves as Steskafa.” Lexa saw the confusion on Clarke’s face and continued, “It is an old wuskripa story to scare the yongons. Steskafa means to ‘be hell’ or remain there, but Steskafa was a warrior who couldn’t die, they walked into battle against whole armies and came away cut and bruised but always alive. The story goes that they angered a commander and as punishment Steskafa was thrown off a cliff.

_ Wuskripa = Boogie man _

“Two days later they returned to their village and cut the head off the commander. They wandered the earth looking for the battle that would finally kill them, joining into any fight they could find, just hoping to die an honorable death. There are hundreds of stories about the deeds Steskafa has done, both good and evil. A spika I heard once said that Steskafa was blessed to survive until they could find another warrior strong enough to live, to take on their power.

“Another claimed that Steskafa made a vow to protect their people, so solemn, and so pure that the ancestors, your Trikovakru, gave them the power to live through every battle, to be the perfect warrior. A calling to guide and protect the people, a lot like the flame is for the commanders.”

Clarke looked to the ground, taking in the kind of hell it would be to walk into fights like that, to know that she would always come out alive, to survive no matter what. The guilt and pain that could build up over the years. It wasn’t a blessing, it was a curse. “I-I can’t imagine living like that.”

Lexa nodded, “Those who wear the mask of Steskafa, it’s a sign that they would take on the power. Most wear them as a sign that they have nothing left to lose in battle. The red spots around her eyes, those are the tears and blood that will be shed by her hand. As they raise up her nose they become black for the pyres that will be burned for her companions, becoming smaller and smaller in the shape of the horizon because they are endless. It is not a station taken lightly Clarke.”

“She never told me.” Clarke held tight to her ladle, forcing the tears back. Asiya had given up everything, had nothing left to lose because of her. Because she was too desperate about communicating with the Ark to think about the consequences of her actions.

“They are only stories fyucha.” Asiya spoke quietly, “You are not to blame for my choices or feelings. I chose these marks long before you were born.” She looked over her shoulder at the two young women with a seemingly eternal sadness bourne by the wrinkles of her face. “That was not your story to tell Heda, and it is one best forgotten…”

“Steskafa was never supposed to be the story of a vengeful warrior hunting children in the night, it was supposed to be the only gona with the strength to save their people, the gona that could protect their people from war. The gona who did not care about the honor in battle, the glory of taking on a fight that they could not win. Like my fyucha is trying to do, avoiding war for the sake of all, not seeking it out for the selfish desire to die, or to find glory in battle. 

“Death will always be the easy path, it is strength to survive, to see your people die before you and continue to leave your tent with head held high. It is strength to learn their names and walk with them, knowing that you will live long after their children have gone. Strength is allowing yourself to love.” She looked back to her loom, the simple green cloth becoming longer as she spoke. Asiyas hands moved with the grace and confidence of many years of practice, but she still watched the fabric grow out of a pile of wool every day. “Loving is so much harder than cutting yourself off from the world.”

The women fell silent. Working together Clarke and Lexa began the process of dying more wool. Both lost in thought about the meaning behind Asiya’s words. Lexa could only think about the words that seemed to permeate her every action before Clarke wiggled her way into Lexa’s life. ‘Love is weakness’ had been the only thought that kept her moving after Costia died and Clarke left. She told herself that it was the commander’s duty to remain alone and loveless for the sake of her people.

Clarke thought about her cowardice in leaving camp Jaha to hide from the people she loved. Her actions in Arcadia to finally cut herself free of the ties to her home, to her people so that she could be free to love. As if her duty to her people trapped her, kept her from loving them. It’s selfish to pretend I have no more responsibility to them, she decided.

Asiya lost herself into her work, letting the hands of her own phantoms guide her through the repetitive motions of the loom. So many faces around her filled with love and compassion that it was hard to ever pretend she could do anything but continue helping others. They may have passed, but their spirits lived on through her and it was her duty to show them the honor they deserved.


	13. ...So they don't have to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much walking. Walking in the forest, walking in the battlefield. Talking with Jasper and settling some things with Lexa. Unintentional declarations, and just a little bit of the first half of the Brolgeda. Good heavens this is a doozy of a chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an awful, no good, very bad trash panda  
> I meant to post yesterday and then I just kind of went to work and then didn't come home until my face planted itself into a pillow. So double post yay!

Every day that passed moved with a kind of tension between the members of Skaikru, whispers of what this ritual was really hiding. More than a few felt that it was just an excuse to surround Arcadia with seemingly endless numbers of grounders. Each clan that arrived set up camp in their own portion of the woods, their banners flying high enough for the other clans to see where their border ended and another began.

It was equal parts tension and companionship as those with the strength joined into the work to establish the field for Brolgeda, and those in power moved freely, conversion with the other ambassadors and warchiefs.

Clarke no longer tried to watch all of them, with thirteen clans full of plotters and schemer all gathered in one place, she knew that there was no chance for her to keep track of all of them. Instead she trained, pushing Pike and Bellamy to their limits, inspiring their people as she proved time and again that while she may have left Arcadia, she was their best chance as a champion.

 

“Clarke.” Lexa stood over the training pit where Clarke was fending off Bellamy and Pike at the same time.

“Nodotiem hodnes.” Clarke ducked under Pike’s fist and punched Bellamy in the knee. Bellamy dropped and landed on top of Clarke, trapping her beneath his weight. She grunted, “Bellamy I’m sorry about this.” Clarke wriggled back a few inches and slugged him in the jaw, over and over again until he rolled out of the way. Pike kicked Clarke in the ribs and she groaned, grabbing his leg, “Son of a-” She rolled to the side, yanking Pike down on Bellamy and got to her feet.

_ Not now love. _

“Cheap shots aren’t a strategy in one-on-one combat.” She grouched, fighting the desire to kick them both in the teeth.

“Clarke.” Lexa warned, seeing the anger in her eyes.

“Ai get in hodnes.” Clarke limped away from the dog pile and towards Lexa, “Chit yu gon?” She accepted the proffered hand and allowed Lexa to pull her up to level ground.

_ I know love. What did you want? _

Lexa looked down at their clasped hands, “I was wondering if you would like to take that walk?” She looked up into Clarke’s eyes.

A smile grew across Clarke’s lips, “Of course.” Clarke gestured for Lexa to lead the way, limping after the commander with one arm around her waist.

Looking back at Clarke, Lexa frowned, “Do we need to see Dr. Griffon?”

Clarke glanced back to make sure the others couldn’t see her and straightened up most of the way with a wince, “Nah, Pike missed my ribs, I just wanted him to feel good about that fight.”

Lexa chuckled, “You indulge them.”

“I’m no fos, and they won’t fight for me, but it’s good for the people to see us taking Brolgeda seriously.” Clarke gestured to the people that were around the training pit. “They need to take it seriously.”

“For someone who plans to leave them behind, you still care quite a bit for Skaikru.”

“Of course I do,” Clarke slid her hand into Lexa’s, “but they need to walk by themselves, and I have others who need me more.”

Lexa smiled and shook her head, “I know, I didn’t ask you out here to give more declarations, we both know where our hearts lie.”

“Then why are we here?”

“You promised me you would show me the forest as you have come to see it.”

A wicked look shined in Clarke’s eye and she looked up, “Then we have to look where I see it. Follow me.” Clarke took a running jump at a tree and ran up the trunk until she caught a thick branch and hauled herself up. She launched herself at the next branch and mounted it like a horse before standing and repeating the process, climbing up the trees like she was born to them, but differently than Trikru would climb.

Lexa allowed herself a moment to admire the way that Clarke moved through the trees, so very different than anyone she had ever seen, so uniquely Clarke, before she began to follow. Her movements just as swift, but more fluid, there was less force and more trust in the tree itself. She let the trees add to her momentum and guide her up to Clarke’s side. They crouched together a good seventy feet above the ground, watching and waiting. Lexa allowed Clarke to be the one to lead them, was happy to follow Clarke.

There was some signal that Lexa didn’t catch and Clarke began picking her way through the trees with confidence. For once the sound of someone following her wasn’t a hindrance or a trial, but it was a comfort to know that they were on the same terms in the trees. Neither one superior to the other. Lexa followed the exact steps of Clarke’s journey, she didn’t stop until Clarke turned around with that same wicked grin.

Clarke put a hand over Lexa’s eyes, “Listen.” Lexa opened her mouth to protest and Clarke insisted, “What do you hear?”

Lexa closed her eyes and tuned in to the sounds of the forest. The wind moving through the leaves both above and below, small animals climbing the branches and jumping from tree to tree. “Squirrels chasing each other to the south, maybe ten feet away. A breeze moving slowly, not enough to affect an arrow’s flight.”

“Go further.” Clarke squeezed Lexa’s wrist, “How big are the squirrels? How many?”

“Three? And I don’t know.”

“What’s below us?” Lexa began to shake her head, “Tell me what’s below us Lexa.”

The commander settled into the branch, trying not to think about the sounds like a warrior, but to just let them reach her ears. “Your breathing. I can’t hear anything beneath us.”

Clarke sighed and sat back down, her hand falling from Lexa’s eyes, “I hear so much more.” Clarke shut her eyes and slowed her breathing.

“There’s a badger on the ground digging, maybe for mushrooms. Three deer a half mile north east are foraging. Your heartbeat, so steady and trusting, it hasn’t changed for anything today. Those squirrels? Two of them are under a half pound, hungry. The third one has a good stash, he weighs over a pound, fat. The branches bend more under him, and they’re chasing him most likely for a share of his food.

“The wind is changing, a storm from the east will be brewing in a few days. You can smell the salt on the air. It’s all there Lexa, all of it happening at the same time, not waiting on us to observe it, but letting us do it all the same. While we have our wars and politics, the world keeps turning.” Clarke’s eyes snapped open and she looked south, “Someone’s trying to follow us?”

Lexa couldn’t see or hear anyone, but she trusted Clarke’s intuition and rested a hand on her sword. “No, no it’s Skaikru, one of the hundred.” Clarke moved Lexa’s hand.

“How do you know? Clarke I can’t even see them.”

“They are stomping around like a child, but not as loud as most of Skaikru. He’s lost our tracks and his choice words are from the Ark. Only Arkers would tell you to float yourself.” Clarke rose up on the branch, “Let’s go see who it is.”

“You lead, I’ll follow.” Lexa promised.

“Sounds like fun.” Clarke grinned, going back the way they had come. Lexa raised her eyebrows in surprise when she realized how quiet Clarke had become, her steps light as the squirrels had been, blending into the sounds of the woods perfectly. It wasn’t true silence, that would have been out of place, but the gentle rustle of the branches, leaves bouncing back into place as if brushed by an uncaring animal. It was the right kind of noise.

Lexa shadowed Clarke’s steps the way she had been taught, making no noise at all. She understood now how it seemed out of place, how the lack of sound around her could bring attention just as much as Skaikru crashing their way across the land. They stopped when they could finally see the one following them, a thin boy with a pair of goggles on his head, curly hair that didn’t seem like it could ever lay flat.

“Jasper...” The smile left Clarke’s voice, “Stay here, I need to handle this. Just, no matter what, stay here.”

Lexa nodded, she had heard that there was bad blood between Clarke and Jasper but wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Clarke hopped off her branch and reached out, catching limbs to slow her fall until she landed on the forest floor with a heavy thud. “Jasper.”

The boy flailed a bit and stumbled back a few steps, “Where the hell did you come from?”

“The trees.” She jerked her chin up, “Why you following me Jasper?”

“You said to come back when I’m sober. This was the one time you weren’t surrounded by people.” He spread his arms wide, “So lay it on me Clarke, tell me about your master plan, how Maya had to die for all of us to live.”

“She didn’t.” Clarke leaned back against a tree, “We could have… Segregated them into one floor of the mountain, treated their injuries, trapped them there until we could get volunteers to donate bone marrow and integrate them into the general population.”

“So why didn’t we?” He snapped, “Why did you decide to kill them all?” Jasper advanced on Clarke.

“Because you were too slow, because Wallace was too evil, because I couldn’t think with my mom being tortured in front of me. Because I had an easy answer that meant that all of our people lived.” Lexa swallowed, seeing how Clarke’s logic had followed her own in the betrayal on the mountain, how she had forced Clarke to make the same awful choice. “I saw all the choices in front of me, and instead of risking everything on the chance for something humane, I took the guaranteed win. I betrayed you, and everyone in that mountain because I needed every choice I made up to that point to matter.”

“That’s bullshit!” Jasper shoved her shoulder, “You didn’t try hard enough! You should have saved her!”

“What would you have me do?”

“You should have given me time, I had him! I had a gun, I was gonna kill Wallace! I could have saved them all.”

Clarke shrugged, “Maybe, or maybe the next soldier took over. Did you have three hundred bullets in that pistol of yours Jasper? Could you take on every one of those mountain men? They were fighting for their lives just the same as us.” She looked him over, the trembling hands behind the rage. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I KNOW!” Birds scattered from the trees, and all the wildlife in the area ran. “But you could have!”

“You know what I did Jasper?” Her voice held nothing but sadness and the endless pain of everything she had done. “I went back to the mountain,” She turned around and lifted her shirt, “Three hundred and eighty-one kill marks, one for each of them. I paid in blood, and I paid in pain for every one of them. This is how I dealt with what I did, because I pulled the lever, I killed them all,” She turned around again, “You need to find your own way to live with yourself.”

“How?”

“That’s between you and Maya.” Clarke offered him her arm.

He took it and let her pull him into a tight hug, “I’m so sorry Jasper.” She whispered, holding him tight.

“Let me go.” He sniffed, pulling out of her grasp. “I’ll never forgive you.” Jasper turned around and began walking back to the Arcadia.

Clarke let him go. Only Lexa heard the words she spoke next. “And I’ll never ask you to.” Clarke turned back to Lexa, having felt more than seen her descending from the treetops. Bronze arms wrapped around her and Clarke let herself sag.

“I have you.” Lexa held Clarke’s head to her shoulder, “I have you.” Clarke inhaled deeply, drowning herself in the smell of Lexa. “Do you… Do you blame me like that? For the mountain?”

Clarke stiffened, looking up, “Lexa no, I-I made the same choice…” She rested her head on Lexa’s shoulder, “I can’t hate you for choosing your people, for saving thousands of lives over fifty. It was short sighted, and maybe more would have died from the mountain after they made themselves immune to radiation, but it was the best choice for your people.”

Lexa shook her head, “That can’t be all of it.”

“It isn’t! I hated you Lexa, because you didn’t just betray our alliance. You betrayed me. You left me!” Clarke fisted her hands in Lexa’s collar, eyes on the ground, “I needed you, I loved you.”

Lexa lifted Clarke’s chin, “And now?”

Clarke sighed, letting go of the pain, “It took a long time, but Asiya told me once that my only job in life was to live, to find love, and to find peace. That is when I started to forgive you, because,” Clarke closed her eyes, “Because every time I thought about the things I loved, the things that I would fight and die to keep, it was you. 

“I thought of you,” She grinned, “Leaning up against that table with that look on your face like I was going to eat you. I was so mad at you and your stupid platitudes, but all I could think about was how close we were standing.

“I thought about the feeling in my chest when you were ready to fight that pauna... Man, I don’t think I’ve ever had someone inspire me to fight one of those things, but you stepping forward? That was as close as I’ve ever been to wanting to fight just to see the approval in anyone’s eyes. Right before I realized I couldn’t lose you.” She paused, looking at Lexa.

“My favorite color?” Clarke plucked at her green skirt, “It’s the color of your eyes. I didn’t even realize until Asiya commented on the fact that I wore only green and red, she used to think it was because I missed the forest, but it was you. And hunting down Azgeda, I didn’t need to go back to Polis, I knew what needed to happen. It doesn’t matter how much I hurt, or what we lost that night.”

“Just that someday, I can see you again, see the Warrior Queen of the Congeda fighting to protect her people no matter the cost to herself. So I guess the answer to your question is that I loved you more than I could ever hate you.”

Lexa tried to think of something to say, some way to deal with every Clarke said. But there was so much going through her head, all the regret for what she’d done and the heartache for Clarke, doing it all alone.

Clarke shook her head, “We aren’t done with our walk.” She offered Lexa her hand.

“Okay.” She took it.

 

Slowly tension turned to excitement as Brolgeda approached, and once the circle was dug and the dais established, preparation immediately turned to the celebration ahead. They would dismantle the dais and dance on the battlefield, sharing drink and food from their homes, sharing their wealth with one another. Performing feats of skill and lighthearted sparring matches. The banners would be set aside as all clans became brothers and sisters in blood.

The only thing standing in the way, was the Brolgeda itself.

Clarke walked into the commander’s tent the morning of Brolgeda, trying to find a way to settle her nerves. She found Lexa brushing on her warpaint while Indra stood over her speaking passionately, “-going to kill you Heda! This is no council meeting in _ your _ house. This is the battlefield.”

Lexa glanced at Clarke in the mirror and held up her hand, “Nou mo, if this is where I die, then it will be in establishing the peace once more with my people. And if any break the laws of Brolgeda, then there will be retribution. Go prepare your champions, they need you more than I do.”

Indra looked over to Clarke and her expression was a mixture of distaste and a demand to continue her argument. Clarke nodded her agreement, Lexa needed to think about ways to stay safe. Indra left her to finish convincing the commander and Clarke sat on the edge of Lexa’s bed to watch her apply her warpaint. “I’m scared.”

Lexa closed her eyes and set down her brush. A deep breath. “Me too.” Clarke’s hand slid into Lexa’s and the commander opened her eyes. “We will succeed, we  _ will _ survive.”

“No,” Clarke’s lips twitched into a smile, “Life is about more than just surviving, remember? We are going to live and so will our people.” She leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on the corner of Lexa’s mouth.

Lexa nodded to herself, “I hope you are right.”

“I am the Commander of Death, I will it to be so.”

“You take that title a little too seriously.” Lexa chuckled, feeling better already as she applied her paint with a far steadier hand. “You must apply your paint Wanheda, you are not fully dressed without it.”

“And how do you know that wasn’t my intent?” Clarke teased, “How else will I seduce you.”

“Explains why you aren’t wearing your armor either.” Lexa teased her right back.

“I’m not going to.”

“Clarke.”

“No, I won’t do it. Armor isn’t going to save me and it makes me reckless.”

Lexa glared at her in the mirror and Clarke grinned, “You look like a raccoon.” She reached three fingers into the paint and carefully drew the streaks down Lexa’s cheeks. “Much better.”

“Please wear armor Clarke.”

She sighed and reached past Lexa to grab the red paint, “You wear a mask, and a scarf like a river of blood, kicking your men off of towers when they displease you. That is your armor Heda.” She wiped her hand off on a cloth and dipped four fingers into the blood red and dragged them across her right cheek and eye, starting from her nose and moving to her hair.

“I walk into the mountain alone, my golden braids pulled into the horsetail of my people, no armor or weapons necessary, hundreds of kill marks on display. That is my armor.” She performed the same process to the left side of her face. Lexa couldn’t help but think that it looked like two bloody hands held Clarke’s head, directing her vision to her next target.

“Clarke-” The horn sounded, calling the clans together. It was too early, Lexa still had things she wanted to say just in case her instincts were correct. “-I love you.”

Clarke’s eyes held an understanding of the gravity of their situation, the potential future that always hung over them, “Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotiem.”

 

“Kyongedon kom thotinon kru, oso wada klin laudnes-de kom foutaim en Brolgeda kom Raitnes. My people of the thirteen clans, we cleanse the pain of the past in the Battlefield of Justice. Kom jus, oso drein jus. For blood, we give blood. Kom laudnes, oso raun op laudnes. For pain, we give pain. Ogeda, oso lid chilnes nodotaim in. Together we bring peace once again.” Lexa’s voice carried across the silent gathering.

As one, the clans replied, “Ogeda, oso lid chilnes nodotaim in.” A moment’s pause, and they spoke now with Skaikru’s voices as well, “Together we bring peace once again.”

A Sankru woman stood off to the side on the dais, behind the ambassadors with a microphone. Over the silence, her chilling voice reaching all of them as she sang.

_ “Ai laik fir in gon ai op don jus ona ai han, _

_ Don haikru ona ai hed, don riden in ai blinka. _

_ Don stedaun ona ai stepa, don tears ona ai feisnes, _

_ Don nou spiken moba ona ai medo, en don skaren ona ai trikova. _

 

_ “Kom disha Brolgeda kom Raitnes ogeda klin oso hans, _

_ Reshop oso blinka, set daun oso moba, en goch oso stedaun klin. _

_ Bilaik seingeda oso monin don aftaim.” _

 

She finished on a low note and looked to her left, where a young man from Farm station joined her at the microphone, and their voices intertwined into the melody once more.

_ “I fear to see the blood on my hands, _

_ The crown on my head, the exhaustion in my eyes. _

_ The death on my boots, the tears on my face, _

_ This unspoken apology on my body, and the scars on my soul.” _

 

_ “From this battlefield of justice we all clean our hands, _

_ Rest our eyes, give up our guilt, and avenge our dead. _

_ As family we welcome the future.” _

 

There were many tear-stained faces among the clans as the voices of the singers faded from the air. Lexa waited a long time before she stood once more, “Brolgeda kom Raitnes is at hand. Until all blood has been settled we shall not rest, we shall not eat and we shall not leave. The clans will speak their guilt, or it will be spoken for them. When the blood rests on the ground and no longer in our hearts, then we will have peace.”

She turned to Ingranronakru as the first to speak. Warchief Cross stood up, “Ai laik Warmona Cross. Ingranronakru stands guiltless before Brolgeda.” He stood, looking around to the other chiefs and they nodded to him, allowing him to sit down. Clarke released the air from her lungs.

_ I am Warchief Cross. _

Another chief stood, a woman with thick curly locks around her face, and heavy muscles built onto her surprisingly graceful form. “Ai laik Woncha Luna. Floukru is guilty. Delfikru was wronged.”

_ I am Chief Luna. _

Lexa nodded and a horn was sounded. The champions of both clans leapt down from the dais into the fighting pit. Delfi’s gona chose their weapon first, the knife. Floukru grabbed the axe and they stood waiting for the second horn.

“Ai laik Katsein kom Delfikru, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.”

_ I am Katsein of Delphi clan, and I am here for justice. _

“Ai laik Tobias kom Floukru, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.”

_ I am Tobias of boat clan, and I am here for justice. _

The horn sounded and Katsein charged at the other Gona, ducked under the axe swing and body slammed him, the knife sinking hilt deep into the champion’s stomach. They landed in a heap and Katsein stood, yanking her blade out sharply. Then she reached down and offered her hand to the other warrior.

Tobias took it, pulling himself up with a wince. They walked together to the fire in the center of the pit and Katsein put her blade into the flames and pressed it to the other warrior’s wound. “Osir jus don kof op. Our blood is paid.” She shouted. A cry rose from the members of Floukru and Delfikru.

While the gonas moved back to their places behind their ambassadors, Ouskejonkru’s chief stood. A thin man with a long beard. “Ai laik warmona Shem kom Ouskejonkru. Ouskejonkru is guilty, Louwoda kliron and Trishanakru were wronged.”

_ I am Warchief Shem of Blue Cliff clan. _

Hours passed as each clan stood, speaking their innocence or guilt easily, with very few clans needing to add their own two cents. The fights were much longer than the first one, some taking ten or even fifteen minutes as the champions took their vengeance out on their opponent. Choosing to beat them with fists and the hilts of their weapons to avoid drawing blood until their debt was paid.

Quite a few times that choice led to the wronged champion being the one to bleed, but in the end every champion would cauterize the wound, and declare themselves avenged. Azgeda’s champion fought nearly half the clans before being allowed to sit back down, and Trikru fought three. Next it was Skaikru’s turn to stand.

Kane stood up and Clarke clasped her hands behind her back, hoping he would do the right thing. “Skaikru is guilty.” Clarke trembled as relief flooded her system. “Trikru, Ingranronakru, and Azgeda have been wronged.”

Lexa nodded and the horn sounded. “Azgeda will fight first, then Triku, and finally Ingranronakru.”

Clarke walked into the pit with a dull thud, the words of the song playing in her mind once again as she waited for the Azgedan champion to step forward.  _ I fear to see the blood on my hands. _

“Ai laik Clarke kom Skaikru, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.”

_ I am Clarke of the sky people, and I am here for justice. _

The heavily injured Azgedan champion stood aside for his seken, a young woman with long dark hair and a steely expression. She took the axe from the dust where it had been left and moved back so that Clarke could take her weapon. Clarke looked at the sword and knife, both stained with the blood of other warriors. She tossed them aside and stood ready.  _ The crown on my head. _

“Ai laik Ontari kom Azgeda, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.”

_ I am Ontari of the Ice people, and I am here for justice. _

Both champions looked to Lexa for approval. Clarke saw the tightness in Lexa’s jaw, the fear hiding there, but still she waved and the horn was sounded. Ontari let out a war cry and rushed at Clarke with the ferocity of a wild animal, her swings wide and predictable.  _ The exhaustion in my eyes. _

Clarke could see the way this girl fought, could think like her, feeling each swing as it was made. The pain and anger behind each missed attack, and the growing frustration as Clarke managed to evade all of it.  _ The death on my boots. _

A swing went even wider than before and Clarke ducked under her arm, moving behind the champion and grabbed her wrist. A hand planted in the champions back and a hard push had her face down in the dirt. She wrenched the champion’s arm back until she dropped her axe and Clarke picked it up, standing back. _ The tears on my face. _

Ontari pushed herself to her feet and stood with her feet spread wide, braced for the coming attack. The thought crossed Clarke’s mind for just a moment and she relaxed her stance. Clarke flipped the axe in her hand so she was holding the metal and offered the wooden handle to the champion. The girl snatched it, expecting a trick of some kind, but it never came.  _ This unspoken apology on my body. _

Clarke spread her arms wide, “Take your blood.”

Gasps filed the air, and Clarke saw Lexa begin to stand up and shook her head. Lexa sat back into her chair and clenched her fists on the armrests. The other champion looked back over her shoulder to Lexa who gritted her teeth and nodded. Ontari walked over, watching Clarke for any sign of trickery.  _ The scars on my soul. _

She placed a hand on Clarke’s shoulder to keep her still. They locked eyes and the fury had been replaced with respect. Ontari placed the blade just outside of the kill marks on Clarke’s stomach and sliced down, making a bloody gash that went from Clarke’s false rib all the way to her belly button. Clarke winced, but kept her eyes open, fixed on the woman holding the axe.  _ From this battlefield of justice we all clean our hands. _

Ontari met Clarke’s eyes and nodded, walking with her to the fire. The crowd waited patiently for the axe to heat up, they waited for the smell of burning flesh to waft on the breese. They waited for Ontari to raise the bloody axe, “Osi jus don kof op! Our blood is paid!”  _ Rest our eyes, offer up our apology, and avenge our dead. _

Azgeda gave a war cry so loud it vibrated through their bones and shook the ground. Clarke and Ontari joined their shout. Clarke looked to Skaikru and waited, it took a moment, but Pike and Bellamy stepped forward on the dais and added their voices to the cry. Then Raven and Octavia. Finally the rest of her people joined their shouts to those of Azgeda. _ As family we welcome the future. _

Ontari offered Clarke the axe and when it wasn’t taken, she wrapped Clarke’s hand around the handle, “Don nau koma slipen kom jomp dise in Clarke.”

_ There is no shame from joining this fight Clarke. _

Clarke nodded, “Chof, kom gonplei en yu noun.”

_ Thank you, for the fight and your wisdom. _

Ontari smiled and slapped Clarke on the shoulder before returning to the other champions on the dais.

“Ai laik Clarke kom Skaikru, en ai kom raun gon raitnes!” Clarke raised her axe to the sky and she felt her heart pound as her people answered. The other clans lifted their voices together, and for a moment they spoke with one voice, and one intent.

Lexa stood and the cheers died down. Indra waved her champion forward and Clarke smiled as Octavia leapt down from the dais, Nelson was the fos but they both knew that Octavia would be the one to step forward. “Ai laik Octavia kom Trikru, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.”

O picked up the sword that lay on the ground and swung it a few times for good measure before looking to Lexa. The commander sat and the second horn sounded. Clarke settled into a crouch, knowing that Octavia wasn’t here for vengeance and she wouldn’t let Clarke stand by and bleed for them. It was time to fight for their people.

Clarke felt the blood rushing through her veins, her heart pounding in her ear, and she did something that shocked everyone who had seen her fight before. Wanheda lifted her axe and rushed Octavia, jarring the girl’s arm with the strength of her swing, each one coming just moments after the last. She rained down swings on Octavia, driving her back to the edge of the ring.

Octavia backed up the last few steps to the wall of the ring and jumped off the packed dirt, spinning over Clarke’s swing and hit the axe out of Clarke’s grasp. Octavia put her hand down in the dirt and flipped, landing on her feet with her sword held out to balance her.

Clarke shook out her hand and gave a feral grin. Both women charged at each other and just before they would have crashed into one another, Octavia leapt up and Clarke dropped to slide through the dirt. Clarke reached up and grabbed Octavia’s ankle, she dug her feet into the ground and turned, yanking on O’s leg to give her the leverage she needed to stand up.

Octavia skidding through the dirt and rolled to her left, expecting an attack. Clarke’s foot came down not on Octavia, but her blade, trapping it as the other girl had to let go to finish moving. Clarke kicked the blade to the edge of the fire where the wrapping caught aflame. Octavia pushed herself to her feet, breathing heavily but her smile matched Clarke’s. They knew that talking wasn’t allowed under the rules of Brolgeda, but they understood. It was just them, fighting it out together.

They took a few moments to catch their breath before beginning again. They rushed each other, time and again, one of them flipping the other to the ground, beating them until the other gained the advantage. They broke apart and would circle again. The morning sun began to rise up and sweat began to pour down their faces. Finally, Octavia landed a hit on Clarke that cut open her cheek, and they were allowed to stop. 

Wheezing and laughing, Clarke and O stumbled together to the fire. O snagged the knife from the dirt and heated it up just a touch, they both knew it would be worse if they cauterized it, so she pressed the warm blade to Clarke’s cheek.

“Osir jus don kof op! Our blood is paid!” Octavia lifted the knife to the sky, and the clans lifted their voices.

Octavia looked back to Clarke and raised her eyebrows, questioning if Clarke would be okay, they had both fought hard for their chances. Clarke nodded and waved Octavia off. She would not let Pike or Bellamy fight for her.

Clarke allowed herself a few deep breaths before she stood tall, “Ai laik Clarke kom Skaikru, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.” She looked at Lexa, saw the worry in those green eyes and offered her a bit of a smile to reassure her. A few cuts and bruises had never stopped her before, they would not stop her now.

She heard the footsteps and her smile faded, she knew those steps as well as she knew her own name, all of her names. Clarke closed her eyes, trying to understand what was happening, it couldn’t be happening. Ingranronakru had warriors, real warriors, they would not have used a hunter or some simple weaver woman as their champion. “Ai laik Asiya kom Ingranronakru, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.”

Clarke opened her eyes to see the woman she called mother standing across from her, face painted for war and eyes full of exhausted determination. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Asiya walked over and held out her hand for the knife, the set of her jaw was not the kind that would allow for disobedience.  _ You will. _

Clarke put the knife in her mother’s hand and bent down to grab the sword, wincing as the blade sizzled against her skin. She lifted the weapon and Asiya nodded, stepping back a respectful distance.

The horn sounded. Clarke waited, she wasn’t sure exactly how well Asiya fought, hadn’t seen her fight at all in the past, hadn’t even known who Ingranronakru’s champion was. Asiya circled, watching how this new Clarke moved. They matched each other’s footsteps, studying the way the other stepped, which muscles flexed, how they held their weapon.

Asiya approved of what she saw, despite the brutal fight with Octavia, Clarke showed no sign of weakness. She didn’t favor any joints, or show her exhaustion. Her stance was strong. Asiya flipped her knife around so the flat rested against her forearm and advanced towards Clarke in a low crouch.

Clarke jabbed her sword forward, testing Asiya’s defense. She blinked in surprise when her mother dodged it easily and punched her in the bicep. That was why the defensive pose, Asiya was going to spar with her until they were both satisfied, not like her fight with Octavia or Ontari where they needed validation for their pain or their skills. Asiya was looking to teach Clarke one last thing before their people found peace. Clarke could see it in her eyes and that scared her more than anything, she was just a weaver, an old woman in body and mind.

But she didn’t move like an old woman. Asiya dropped her forearm down on Clarke’s blade and pivoted to her right, using her dagger to protect herself from the sharp end of the sword. Clarke dropped an elbow on Asiya’s shoulder. Asiya lifted her arm to block it and rotated to trap Clarke’s bicep against her side.

Unable to escape now, Clarke took three quick punches to the gut. In the one breathless second she was given while Asiya gathered herself, Clarke pushed her leg forward and pivoted, knocking the older woman to the ground. She dropped to one knee and put her sword to Asiya’s throat, only for her mother to slam her palm into Clarke’s sternum, sending her onto her ass.

Asiya threw her weight back onto her hands and launched herself to her feet, knife already up to catch the next attack from Clarke.

From Clarke who was on her ass, and staring up at the woman she called mother once, the woman who was supposed to be a harmless weaver. The woman who knew everyone in the village. The woman Clarke aspired to be like. Instead she was another liar, another warrior looking down at her with the eyes of a killer.

Clarke looked away. She wouldn’t do this anymore. She wouldn’t take part in the lying and the murder anymore. Not when she could choose another way.

Asiya took the two steps forward and kicked Clarke in the side.  _ Get up! _ She could feel the demand in the imprint of Asiya’s boot. Another kick.  _ Get up! _ Clarke skidded a few feet from the force. She could hear her phantoms telling her, her friends telling her, Lexa telling her.  _ Get up! _

Clarke stopped the next boot before it broke her cracked ribs and she pushed it away with a grunt. She stood up to her full height raised her sword. Asiya stepped back quickly, weapon raised to defend against anything Clarke would do. Anything but what she did.

Clarke flipped the weapon over and slammed it into the dirt point first. She kicked the blade hard enough to snap the edge and bend the blade. She planted her feet in the dirt and waited with her arms by her sides.

Asiya’s head lifted and understanding lit up her eyes. Respect. Approval. Agreement. The rest of the crowd leaned forward, fighting the urge to get closer, to see the words that Clarke mouthed to her opponent. Instead they watched Asiya throw her dagger aside and walked towards Clarke almost casually.

The Ingranronakru warrior inhaled sharply and punched Clarke in the side, away from where she had kicked, but still hard enough to make the girl take a step back. Clarke restabilized her stance and took a deep breath. Asiya landed another punch. Clarke didn’t stumble as far, nor did she seem to be in as much pain as the last one.

With each punch, the rest of the observers averted their eyes a little longer. Soon no one could watch to see blood dripping from Clarke’s mouth. “Stop this! Somebody stop it!” Abby Griffin tried to fight her way to the edge, but Ingan hooked his arm around her waist. “Can’t you see she’s dying?”

Too many hits later and Clarke was barely standing, Asiya’s hand on her shoulder to help her stay up. No one could watch any longer, listening only to the wheezing breaths of Clarke, and her groans of pain. No one saw the lack of a blade, the lack of fire or the broken ritual, they only relaxed when the words were spoken. “Gon sison-tu sonraun, osir jus don kof op.” Asiya’s voice was quiet, breathless. The crowd was so silent that they all heard her words. “For sixty-two lives, our blood is paid.”


	14. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa is Angry, then she is ANGRY, then she is tired. Somewhere in the middle is definitely Clarke's fault.

Asiya and Clarke walked together to the dais, Clarke moving with the help of Asiya. The other champions moved together to offer aid, some jumping down to lift Clarke up over the edge of the pit and then up the dais. As soon as the stretcher was rolled out, Clarke shook her head, “No. No not until Brolgeda is finished.”

Lexa left her throne and grabbed Clarke by the shoulder, turning her around so Lexa could look her dead in the eyes. “Get on the stretcher.”

“No.”

“Clarke.”

“We will not eat, we will not rest, we will fight until the Brolgeda is finished,” Clarke hissed, “That is what we pledged, and that’s what I intend to do.”

“Clarke you look ready to fall over, you couldn’t even pull yourself up out of the pit! Your point has been proven, we get it. Let someone take care of you now.”

“She pulled her punches.”

“You think I don’t know that? You would be dead if she hadn’t! Now get on the damn stretcher.”

“I won’t let you fight without me. You know what comes next Lexa, Skaikru was the thirteenth clan and if anyone wishes to challenge you, now is the time. I won’t let you fight without me.” Clarke’s voice cracked and tears dripped down her cheeks. Her fists clenched so hard that blood dripped from her palms. “I won’t let you fight without me.”

Lexa closed her eyes, shoulders sagging and she nodded. “Bring water for our people!” She shouted, “Hogeda gonplei nou odon!” Lexa looked to Clarke, “I will have Abby and Nyko see to you while water is fetched. Agreed?”

_ Our fight is not over yet! _

Clarke nodded, falling to her chair with the grace of a sack of potatoes. “Good, because she did not pull her punches.” She gave a weak smile, pain clear on her face, “I feel like my insides are made of jelly.”

Asiya looked down and squeezed Clarke’s shoulder, “Moba..” A tear dragged a track down paint-stained cheeks, joining the multitude of tearmarks across her face. “Moba.”

_ I am sorry. _

Clarke put her hand over Asiya’s and nodded, staring at the floor. She was too tired to even look up, and she was grateful for it when she heard the hurried footsteps of Abby Griffon followed by the steady thuds of Nyko’s feet. “Let’s get this over with.” She muttered, stripping her shirt off to avoid all the questions of where she was hurt.

Nyko knelt down by her side and immediately started tending to her wounds. Abby wouldn’t shut up long enough to know that Clarke could barely see the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you Clarke? I didn’t understand this whole barbaric show to begin with but what just happened was disgusting! I can’t believe you can even be in the same space as that woman.” She spat the word, “I hope that now you see that I was right and you’ll stay away from her now Clarke. God look at you. I’m amazed you even managed to walk back here, let alone-”

“Mom.” Clarke interrupted the intense rant, “You have about twenty minutes to put me back together, and make sure the internal bleeding isn’t too intense. So you can yell at me, or you can fix me. Whatever you choose? I’m not planning to listen to you.” Clarke leaned heavily on her elbows, staring at the floor with all the energy she had left.

Lexa crouched on her other side, holding Clarke’s fingertips gently. It earned her a tired smile.

Abby pursed her lips and got to work. Checking the burst blood vessels in Clarke’s left eye, the cut across her cheekbone. The black and red bruises scattered across her body, they were focused in the regions without major organs, but there was no way to avoid any organs at all. 

Together Abby and Nyko moved Clarke’s body to see where the worst damage was. It was everywhere, but she likely had a ruptured spleen and some serious damage to her lower abdomen, not to mention fractured ribs that had become broken in Asiya's brutal punishment.

After her whole torso was wrapped in supporting bandages and Nyko administered some pain killers, Abby spoke again. “This is all we can do, we need an MRI to get anymore information on what’s going on, and you’ll probably need surgery.”

Clarke didn’t even twitch, so Abby turned to Lexa. “Finish this. She could die if we let the bleeding go unchecked.”

Lexa nodded, and stood up, “I will be back hodnes, don’t do anything stupid.”

Clarke chuckled, “I think I’ve had my fill.” She smiled up at Lexa.

The Commander returned to her throne, “Thotinon kru don sen klir oso baman gon skai. The thirteen clans have released their vengeance to the sky. Ai laik Lexa kom trikru, sen Heda gon Kyongedon. En ai hedon oso op breik yu au baman,  bilaik seingeda oso monin don aftaim. I am Lexa of the tree people, seventh Commander. And I command us all to free ourselves of anger, and greet tomorrow as family.”

“Wait!” The Chief of Broadleaf clan stood, “Ai laik Woncha Simeon kom Yujlifa kru, and the blood is not settled! We have ALL been wronged by Heda.” He jabbed a finger at her chest, “You ordered our people to abandon our alliance, to give the glory of killing the mountain to Skaikru! You dishonored the flame, and you are a coward. You shame all of Kyongedon by choosing the weakling’s path.”

Lexa clasped her hands behind her back, “Does any other clan hold the blood against me?”

Rock line stood, “Ai laik Warmona Tiresa kom Boudalankru, and the blood is not settled.”

Sand clan stood, “Ai laik Warmona Morgan kom Sankru, and the blood is not settled.”

Blue Cliff stood, “Ai laik Woncha Quinn kom Ouskejonkru, and the blood is not settled.”

Abby looked to Clarke and Nyko, “What’s going on?”

“A coup.” Clarke replied, looking up to her commander, “They demand that she bleed for abandoning us at the mountain. It won’t be like the other fights, they will try to injure her or kill her. It’s the only way to ensure that their commander is strong enough.”

“That’s…”

“Savage.” Clarke nodded, “But they still don’t kill children.” Abby shut up after that.

 

Lexa waited for any of the other clans to speak up, and when they did not she faced her accusers. “Ai laik Lexa kom Trikru, sen Heda gon Kyongedon, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.” She stepped off the dais and into the pit.

Her first opponent stepped after her, scooping up the dagger with confidence. “Ai laik Honta kom Ouskejonkru, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.”

Lexa picked up the sword from the dust where Clarke had thrown it and drew it back over her forearm in a pose that they all knew too well. It was the stance of an executioner. Her opponent flipped his dagger in the air and caught it behind his back.

Lexa didn’t seem impressed by the display. As soon as the horn sounded, she rushed the gona with a heavy overhead swing. Honta deflected the sword aside and got in close to stab her in the ribs. Lexa kept moving forward with her swing so her arm pushed his aside. Maintaining contact she forced his arm up over her head and dragged her blade across his waist as she pulled back. Blood painted her blade and Lexa straightened.

Her open arm towards the fire was a clear  _ after you _ , and they walked together to the flames. “Osir jus don kof op. Our blood has been paid.” She murmured, carefully cauterizing his wounds.

Lexa clasped forearms with the warrior, knowing that he had as much to do with the coup as anyone in the audience. Honta walked back to his clan and was quickly replaced with the next warrior.

“Ai laik Rona kom Boudalankru, en ai kom gon raitnes.” The woman picked up the axe and turned it in a circle to loosen up her arms.

Lexa kept her sword, “Ai laik Lexa sen Heda, en ai kom gon raitnes.”

The horn sounded and all eyes were on the commander. All eyes were glued to this next fight to see if it would end as quickly as the last. Clarke stood up to move closer, her arm resting on Lexa’s throne while she waited.

Lexa charged forward only for Rona to circle back and to the left. She nodded and drew back and to the right, maneuvering herself closer to the fire. Rona followed her lead, beginning to move in on Lexa, trapping her against the flames. “Come on, stop taunting her.” Clarke muttered. It didn’t feel right, none of it did.

Rona feinted, drawing out Lexa’s defense and punched her in the arm right before it was withdrawn. Leaving Lexa trapped between the other warrior and the fire.

Lexa retaliated with a slice across Rona’s torso. The woman leaned out of the way and dropped two swift punches on Lexa’s inner thigh and abdomen.

She backed off when she took a hit to the jaw.

Lexa took the opportunity to get a two-handed slice up the champion’s chest, cutting through the warrior’s armor and drawing a bloody line from her waist to her collarbones.

They completed the ritual and clasped arms before retreating to their places. Rona to be checked out by Nyko and Abby. Lexa remained by the fire, sword in hand. Clarke watched the confident walk of the next gona and narrowed her eyes at him. After such a quick dispatch of her previous opponents, he should have had some respect for Lexa’s prowess. Even Clarke would have hesitated after seeing the precision of Lexa’s blade.

“Ai laik Tristann kom Yujlifa kru, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.” He held out his hand for the sword in Lexa’s hand.

She gave him the still dripping blade, “Ai laik Lexa sen Heda, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.” Lexa jogged to the edge of the arena for the dagger and scooped it up. As soon as she turned around the horn sounded.

Silence surrounded the lake as the clash of blade on blade rang out across still waters and the crowd watched on bated breath while this newest warrior held his own against Lexa. They danced around the arena, landing hits with fists and feet, but always avoiding the other’s blade.

Clarke’s eyes roved as she waited for something, something that couldn’t possibly be there. It wasn’t her eyes that told her something was wrong. “What is it?” Asiya asked softly, “You look ready to fight.”

“Shh,” Clarke held out a hand to stop her nomon.

There.

The sound of stretching sinew and protesting wood.

Her eyes flicked to the trees. Archers in the trees.

“Lexa get down!” Clarke leapt off the dais and felt time stop around her. Lexa bent her legs to dip under the sword of her opponent. Her braids whipped through the air, leaving a trail of her movements. Lexa’s blade reflected the noon sun as it slid into Tristann’s heavily muscled side. He groaned and dropped to one knee, his hand latching onto the sword hilt.

The archer in the trees stretched his bow further. Wood creaked and sinew reached the breaking point, but didn’t quite snap under the strain. Sunlight flashed off the arrow as it released and Clarke knew she was too late. She couldn’t make it there before the thin shaft would spin its way across the clearing to the training pit.

Air pushed against Clarke’s body, trying to stop her freefall to bloodsoaked ground. Her foot landed in the dust with an impact that traveled up her whole leg. She pushed off and instead of moving forward, felt herself falling again when her foot slid, when her body failed her. She couldn’t let herself break down, not when Lexa was depending on her.

Clarke caught herself on hands and her remaining foot, trying to beat the impossible. Trying to beat the arrow flying straight towards Lexa’s chest. Clarke launched herself forward with all the force she could muster. Legs burning with the exertion, her ribs screaming in pain. She fought to get there in time. Fought to save the only thing that mattered. Fought her breaking body.

She made it. Clarke realized she didn’t know how to stop despite arriving in time. Her lungs ached too much to breath, let alone give out a warning. Lexa finally turned towards her, but her eyes held no sign of recognition. Clarke slammed into ruthless hands that wove into her shirt with an iron grip. 

Her feet left the ground. 

Clarke flew to the sound of screams.

Her back hit the ground and the screams doubled in volume. Lexa’s face swam into view above her. Her lips moved but Clarke couldn’t hear anything but screaming. None of that mattered though, nothing mattered because Lexa was okay. Lexa didn’t get hurt.

Relief was its own drug, and darkness overwhelmed her.

 

Lexa studied her opponent. The slight stiffness in his left knee. Which foot planted before a strike. How his expression shifted before he thought he was making a clever move. All of it absorbed within a few flurries of movement. All of her mind focused on sussing out his weakness.

She needed to catch him out quickly. If she allowed herself to be injured anymore in this fight, then she worried that the last would be the one to break her. It was clear the other gonas were biding their time, trying to slow her down for the next fight. 

He shifted his off-leg. A feint. 

His right foot planted in the dirt and the air shattered with the sound of someone shouting. She ignored the noise, moving Tristann’s arm up and ducking under his swing, Lexa slid her sword into his side. She straightened, ready to help her opponent up when a pair of boots thudded on the packed earth.

So this is how they meant to break Brolgeda. So be it. Lexa spun around and latched onto her attacker’s shirt and dropped to her knees while pivoting. The woman flew over her head, screaming in agony as over a dozen arrows sprouted from her body.

Lexa watched in horror as Clarke landed on her back, driving the arrows deeper into her body. The flimsy shafts shattered and Clarke arched her back, screaming in agony.

Lexa dropped to her knees by Clarke, “I didn’t know! Clarke look at me please!” She begged. Clarke rolled her head over but she didn’t seem to even notice Lexa looming over her. Blue eyes rolled up into her skull and Lexa forced her overwhelming panic into action.

She lifted up Clarke’s body, “Hon daun natrona-de!” Lexa bellowed, not waiting to see her command followed before running to the medical tent.

“Dr. Griffin!” Lexa couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice. Couldn’t keep Clarke’s blood from staining her bright red. She couldn’t do anything but watch Abigail shout for help and begin cutting away the shattered shafts.

One of the other doctors started putting needles in Clarke’s arms, blood and other fluids began flowing into her almost as quickly as they were seeping from her wounds. They were shouting at one another for things they needed, so many foreign objects and liquids. Lexa was pushed out of the way of the flurried movements of the doctors.

Lexa stood watch helplessly, hands raised in case she could do something.

“Heda.” Indra said, touching Lexa’s arm, “You must return. You must finish Brolgeda.”

“I can’t leave her.”

“It is what she would have wished for. The assassins have been captured and I have posted men in the trees, you will be safe.”

“Already?” How long did she stand here staring at the life of her lover ebbing away? How long would she have continued to stand if Indra hadn’t interrupted?

Lexa’s fists clenched. The ones who did this will pay with their lives. She would make sure of it. “I am not the one you should worry about.” She turned away from Clarke’s body and back to the battlefield, “If she dies, they will all pay.”

Abigail and Indra traded worried looks.

Lexa stalked back to the battlefield. Her rage was like a violent storm looking for something to strike down and the crowds parted before her bloodsoaked image. No part of her had escaped the taint of Clarke’s blood.

She hooked an arm through Tristann’s and dragged him to the fire carelessly. She ripped her sword out of his side and thrust it into the fire until it glowed a hellish red.

He blanched, but could not escape his reward for losing the battle. “Osir jus don kof op. Our blood has been paid.” Lexa dragged Tristann by the collar of his shirt to the dais in a show of fury and power.

In the pit, drenched in blood before all the clans, Lexa glared at her shrinking wonchas, warmonas, and bandronas. “Who else feels wronged by my cowardice at the mountain?” She demanded, “Who else feels that I should have sacrificed our loved ones, our warriors and the greatest army the clans have ever seen for honor? The honor of those tri-de ripa!” She spat on the ground and those watching flinched. “The honor of breaking sacred rites before our people, because you fear the Congeda I have made, more than you honor the lives of your own people!”

Lexa slammed the blade of her sword against her chestplate, shocking the crowd with the sudden clash of steel. She paced before them like a caged tiger. “I call you bushada! Natrona! Nou koma branwoda!

_ Cowards! Traitors! Honorless waste of space! _

“All who feel that I should die for saving my people over my honor. Face me now and I will give you a death more honorable than you deserve.”

She came to a halt before the crowds of her people, turning in a slow circle, daring any of them to even meet her eye. Chest heaving from emotion she straightened and dropped her sword. “I give you until dusk. After last light, Brolgeda kom Raitnes ends, and the hunt for Natrona-de begins.”

Challenge levied, Lexa stood vigil with her people through the heat of the afternoon. Water was carried through the crowds, but Lexa took none.

Standing with her back to the bonfire, the only thing Lexa could see was Clarke, bruised, broken and bleeding for these people. To save their people.

Sweat dripped down the commander’s face, but she did not move, the blood smeared across her skin dried and stretched her out. She knew that the cowards would sit in the shade, drinking their water and waiting until the last possible moment. Lexa looked to the horizon as the edge of the sun kissed the horizon. Lexa crouched down and yanked her sword from the dust.

Wiping the blade off on her leg, Lexa looked out to the dais where the true traitors sat. “Your last chance has arrived. Challenge me or be hunted.”

Chief Simeon of Yujlifa waved his champion forward. Lexa narrowed her eyes. “You condemn your people by breaking our sacred rites and hide behind your champion?” The stupidity of it all, their arrogance and conniving was all so infuriating. Lexa couldn’t take it anymore. She lifted her arm high and threw her sword through his chest. “I will not fight the surrogate of Natrona!” She roared.

The crowd roared with her, Yujlifa clan shouting the loudest. “Heda! Heda! Heda!” They chanted, their voices growing louder and louder until no one could think in the noise.

The Ouskejonkru chief stood up, taking the sword from the chest of Woncha Simeon and stepped into the pit. The seken from Boudalankru followed him into the pit, with the champion for Delfikru close on his heels. Three gonas stepped from the crowd to join them, leaving Lexa alone against six trained warriors.

“Indra.” Lexa turned her back on the challengers, making a point to show as little respect for the traitors that made her shake with rage, “Find them weapons, and bring me my sword.”

“Sha Heda.” Indra bowed and turned to her warriors. Lexa finally turned back to her challengers, she knew she should be cautious, give them the respect of being well trained if nothing else. But all she could think about was that they were responsible for Clarke’s death. He-her injuries. Clarke would live. She had to live.

Lexa glared at her challengers across the pit while the crowd began lighting the torches. Trikru gonas entered the ring, offering weapons to the challengers, while Octavia brought Lexa her sword. “If you die here, Clarke will never forgive you.” She hissed.

Lexa’s knees went weak and she stumbled a half step back, “She’s alive?”

“Abby has her stable, but we don’t know how long she can hold out. Finish this.” Octavia offered the worn sheathe to Lexa.

The commander drew her blade and stood with her feet far apart and the flat of her blade resting on her arm. “Laudnes kom tromon-de.” Indra called. The Trikru gonas left the field as the horn’s bright sound cut through the air. The battle began.

The challengers looked to one another before moving to circle the commander, trapping her against the bonfire. The three unaffiliated gonas moved first, moving with the synchronicity of a planned attack. Whether they strategized from the challenge until dusk, or arranged this all beforehand, Lexa knew they were all traitors, and needed to die.

The trio approached in a staggered formation, attacking one at a time so she wouldn’t have any change to defend herself. The first one charged at Lexa and she ducked under his swing, stabbing the warrior in the gut. She swept her blade through his side to catch the axe blade of the second warrior. Lexa flicked her sword away. Throwing the gona’s axe into the bonfire.

Lexa caught a flash of shining metal and rolled out of the way a few seconds too late. A pitch black line was drawn down Lexa’s arm, weakening her grip on her weapon. The bonfire warmed her back quickly enough that Lexa had to skip a step forward.

She swung at the female warrior she’d disarmed, hesitating when the woman caught Lexa’s blade in her bare hands. She pivoted under her blade and the third gona’s sword slammed down onto Lexa’s, drawing a scream from the woman as Lexa’s sword cut through her palms. The commander pushed up against the gona’s sword and kicked him in the gut.

He stumbled back a few feet and that was all the opening Lexa needed to dispatch both warriors. She stood from the corpses of her warriors and wiped the blood off on their pants.

The commander turned to the remaining three traitors with only a modicum of respect. “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

The Warchief spread his arms, “Maybe so Heda, but how many innocents will you kill to get your vengeance when that child dies? How low will you sink before you realize you are unfit to rule our people? Ai laik Warmona Quinn kom Ouskejonkru, en ai kom raun gon raitnes.”

Lexa smiled through gritted teeth at his bait. These three would be great warriors in their own right, but their weakness lay in their pride, that pride would be her ally. “Ai laik Lexa sen Heda, en ai hedplei mo gonakru yu na kru. Jomp ai op, jomp ai sadrona op, bilaik bushada. Ai laik Heda don jus, planripa gon Wanheda, en ai tali pis.”

_ I am Lexa seventh commander and I command more warriors than your entire clan’s people. So attack me, attack my lover, act like cowards. I am the commander of the blood, dominator of the commander of death, and I am done with your shit. _

She stalked forward with her blade by her side, straight for Warchief Quinn, disregarding his sword. He lunged his blade forward to stab her in the side. Lexa knocked it aside and put the edge of her weapon to his throat, “Does your conviction extend to your death?”

He twitched his arm to attack and Lexa slit his throat. Any part of her not already red was splattered, dots of blood speckling her face. She took his sword and turned to the next warrior who stood frozen in place, staring at Lexa with terror in their eyes. “Does yours?” She pointed a dripping blade at him and he shook his head.

The warrior turned around and bolted for the crowd. The horn sounded and one of the archers shot him down. Lexa turned on the final warrior, “I suppose there was no need for strategy, was there Delfikru? You’re all cowards seeking power.”

The Delfikru champion sunk into a fighting stance and spat at Lexa’s feet.

Heda smirked and lifted her swords up, waiting for her opponent to make a move. The woman came at her swiftly, her knife flashing in between Lexa’s blades like lighting, slicing and dicing her without causing any real damage. All while Lexa left deeper cuts, but fewer. In a swift spin, Lexa landed a kick in the champion’s pelvis that sent her back and drew a line of red across the woman’s collar, and took two fingers.

Delfikru pushed herself to her feet, but she recognized defeat. There was too much damage, she could barely keep a grip on her knife, and she didn’t have half the rage that burned within Heda’s eyes. Delfikru sank to her knees before Lexa, breathing heavily. “Ai kof op yu jus.”

_ I offer you your blood. _

Lexa looked the woman over, knowing that as far as her opponents were concerned she should kill the champion right here but there was too much death already, too many bodies littering the battlefield. She was so tired of killing. Lexa took the knife from the Delfikru’s hand and burned closed the cut across the champion’s neck, “Ai jus don kof op.” She tossed the knife aside, “You fought well Natrona.”

The champion ducked her head, “Ai laik Katsein kom Delfikru.”

Lexa offered the woman her forearm, “Prove yourself more loyal Katsein, there will not be a next time.” The woman nodded, taking the offered arm with a grateful look.

Lexa released the woman as soon as she was standing and turned to her people with an exhaustion that sank deep into her bones. “Ai laik Lexa sen Heda gon Kyongedon. En ai hedon oso op breik yu baman au,  bilaik seingeda oso monin don aftaim. I am Lexa of the tree people, seventh Commander. And I command us all to free ourselves of anger, and greet tomorrow as family.

“Douse the fire and prepare the feast. It is time to celebrate!”

The people gave a loud cry and dispersed to their camps to take down the banners. Lexa turned toward the medical tent and found Katsein standing in her way. “Move.” The woman stepped back but kept on Lexa’s heel all the way to there, “How is she?” Lexa demanded, moving to Clarke’s side. There were so many tubes and machines she wasn’t even sure she could touch Clarke without dislodging something.

Abby walked over with her hands up as if to nudge Lexa back a little bit, “I have her in a medical coma right now, it means she’s alive and stable but she won’t wake up. I-I don’t know if she can. There was so much damage, I couldn’t get all the arrowheads out, and if the internal bleeding starts up again then I might have to take her back into surgery. She…” Abby bit her lip, “She could take a turn for the worse at any time.”

Lexa acknowledged Abby’s words but she couldn’t process them. If she let herself think about any of those words or how they fit together she would lose any semblance of control she had left. Lexa took Clarke’s hand and squeezed gently, “You won’t die, you promised me you wouldn’t die Clarke.”

“She can hear you.” Asiya spoke softly. Everyone spoke softly, like they were worried if they spoke too loud the spell would break and sleeping beauty would take her last breath.

“Of course she can.” Lexa dropped to a knee, “She always can. All the things I never said, she always hears them,” She bit back tears, “But she can’t do that if she dies.”

“Ai fyucha laik yuj, she has the will to live, so she  _ will _ live.”

_ My heir is strong. _

“Who are you trying to convince?” Lexa scoffed, it hurt to even think about, but she knew how this went. No one survived that kind of combat, even if she hadn’t been shot, Clarke had been dying. “There comes a time where the will to live no longer matters, and even the greatest warriors find defeat in death.”

Asiya nodded, “Then it is time to command death.”


	15. -Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa is a whirlwind of activity desperately trying to put things back together after Brolgeda, and distract herself from Clarke's condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, thank you guys so much for riding this out with me. It's been a ton of fun seeing your reactions and reading your comments. As always, let me know how you feel in the comments and thank you for sharing this story with me.

“Leave.” Asiya looked to Abby, “You cannot help her anymore.”

Abby squared up, “I’m not going anywhere, that is  _ my _ daughter you’re talking about. I’m not leaving her.”

“I have lost seven children before Clarke, and I will not lose anymore. You will not interfere. If you wish for her to live, then you must leave.”

“What are you going to do?” She asked suspiciously.

“Things that your medicine cannot. If you do not leave, then I cannot save her.” Asiya looked over at Clarke’s pale complexion and labored breathing, “It is already questionable if she will survive.”

Abby chewed on her lip, “Give me the basics.” Even Abby could see the genuine concern in the way Asiya hovered over Clarke, had barked constant questions through their procedures.

“I will not cut her. I will give her herbs that will prolong her current state, the rest of the pieces have fallen around her.”

Abby nodded, “Okay. I’ll wait outside the tent. Come on.” She hurried everyone out of the tent save for Lexa and Asiya and closed the flaps with one last worried look at her daughter. The Delfi champion had tried to stay, but without any direction from Lexa she allowed herself to be urged out of the tent as well.

“You are her sadrona, so you may stay, but do not speak or try to stop me.” Asiya instructed.

“Chit yu dula op?” Lexa would do whatever Asiya asked if it meant that Clarke opened her eyes.

_ What are you going to do? _

Asiya shook her head and pulled out a leather pouch full of vials. “Jus gon yu breik au.” She chanted, pouring blood onto her thumb and smeared a little right under both of Clarke’s eyes. 

_ Blood you have spilled.  _

“Jus kom yu baman.” Another vial smeared across Clarke’s eyelids.

_ Blood of your vengeance. _

“Bon woda kom yu nomon laudnes.” She set a drop of clear liquid on Clarke’s forehead. 

_ Tears of your mother’s pain. _

“Folau kom stedaun yu gaf moba in.” A line of thick ash from a pyre was drawn up Clarke’s nose and spread through the tears on her head.

_ Ash of the dead you seek to atone for. _

“Wintam sonraun fis klin on newanen tiya praimfaya, tiya wor, tiya wamplei. Ai hedon yu op, Wanheda thau kwelnes, kik raun. Kyon sonraun kom hodnes oso wintam sonraun.” Asiya removed the breathing apparatus from Clarke’s lips and slid a small green bundle down her throat, lifting her chin to make Clarke swallow.

_ The ancestors decree one immortal in the world’s end, in war, in death. I command you, Wanheda without weakness, to live. Live on with the blessing of our ancestors. _

Shaking hands rolled up the leather pouch. Asiya took a deep breath and began to carefully remove the needles from Clarke’s arms, dabbing away at the small blood spots with a cloth. Lexa looked between Clarke’s pale features and Asiya, everything in her told her to push the old woman out of the way, to reconnect the strange tubes that Abby claimed were keeping Clarke alive. But she promised.

Asiya finished cleaning Clarke up, except for the substances left on her face and sat down on a small stool looking exhausted. “Now we must wait.”

Lexa gritted her teeth, “How long?”

“If she survives the night, then she will live.”

“How many times have you done this?”

Asiya looked at Lexa with an understanding that the commander hated, “What I have done here has only been done three times before now.”

“And how many have you done it?” She needed to know how sure this was going to be.

“This is the first.” Asiya watched the minimal rise and fall of Clarke’s chest, “And it will be my last.”

Lexa pursed her lips, warring between exhaustion and curiosity. “I have never heard heimbri like that.”

_ Prayer _

“I know. It is time for Heda to understand Steskafa. The last time your spirit tried to cross swords with mine, it was not friendly.” She flashed a hint of a smile at Lexa, “I would like to apologize for cutting off the head of the second Heda. It was not my hand, nor your head, but I feel it is time to set aside such grudges.”

Lexa’s eyes widened, “It’s true?”

“Some.” Asiya nodded, “I have been looking a very long time for one like Clarke…” She reached out and took Clarke’s hand into her weathered and wrinkly palm, “Of all my children, she was the only one to understand what it is to survive first, to know that some things must be done. I protected them from the truth of our world.”

“You were looking for an heir.”

“Instead I raised many fine weavers.” Asiya chuckled, “Clarke never had the patience. There is too much fire in her heart, she must act, fight for her people and for her beliefs. She cannot weave the future from a distance, but instead acts in tandem with the many threads that build our people’s future. Wanheda is a title that bears many duties, a title that many try to choose for themselves, but ai fyucha…” Asiya grinned and shook her head, “Our stubborn girl earned it by being Wanheda before she could even lift a weapon.”

Lexa smiled, agreeing with the assessment. So many times she had wondered how someone so weak could have ever commanded an entire people, children untrained in the ways of war, and still manage to defeat her armies. But Clarke never needed to fight, she had a way of making her will become reality. Defeating the mountain, bringing peace for their people, stopping Azgeda, it all was an exercise of Clarke’s mind.

She organized people the way that some organized fruit. Fought with exactly the right tools in every situation. Allying with Clarke was one of the best decisions of Lexa’s life. Betraying her the worst. 

Could she live with herself if Clarke died trying to save her? “Do you believe she will live?” Lexa asked softly.

“Do you think she has something to fight for?” Asiya asked.

Lexa smiled to herself and squeezed Clarke’s hand. “Jomp yu in gon ai niron.” Clarke would never let herself die if she had something to live for.

_ Fight for me my love. _

 

Lexa woke in a fog of exhaustion that dragged at her eyelids. Her pillow was warm and soft, body covered in the heaviness of her blankets, the only warning in her was the pain in her arm and the hushed voices around her. Had something happened? She lifted her head and opened eyes that were blurred by sleep. Blonde hair bent over her right arm, dabbing at the cut there with some kind of stinging liquid. “Clarke?” She croaked.

The head jerked up. Dr. Griffon shook her head, “She’s still sleeping. I’m just trying to clean up your wound, the blood is the wrong color and I’m worried about you having an infection.”

“I am nightblood. Someone should have told you.” She blinked, looking out of the tent to see the light beginning to break over the horizon. “It’s morning?”

“Yes. Asiya said we should let you sleep.”

“Where is she?” Lexa was beginning to wake up now with the help of Abby’s needle tying her skin together. The only ones in the tent besides Abby and Clarke was Ryder and Katsein of all people.

“She left as soon as the sky began to lighten.” Katsein offered. “She said that there was still work to be done.”

She should be out there helping, Lexa knew that. Her people would wish to celebrate the beginning of new peace, a peace that would quickly end with the hunt for the traitors. Another war, more blood spilled all because of a bid for power that would end in nothing but death. All she wanted was to stay with Clarke, to enjoy the peace they had worked for. “Fetch Ingan.”

“Heda?” The Azgeda stepped into the tent, “I am here.”

“Protect her with your life. No one is to enter this tent save for myself, Asiya and Dr. Griffon.” Lexa looked back to Clarke’s pale face and sent a prayer to the ancestors that Asiya was right, that Clarke would live.

“Sha Heda.” He grabbed Katsein by the arm and gestured for her to leave. She did as she was told with a backward glance towards Lexa that confused the commander as much as it annoyed her. Ingan set himself by the tent with a respectful nod towards Heda.

She allowed herself to kiss Clarke’s head gently and steeled herself for the battle to come. “Katsein kom Delfikru.”

“Heda.” The woman crossed an arm over her chest and sank to one knee.

Lexa looked the woman over, bandages were the most noticeable part of her. “Why are you not with your people?” She considered the fact that Katsein was there to finish the assassin’s duty, Delfikru was well known for training the greatest assassins of any of the tribes. She had shown greater skill than any of the other warriors in Brolgeda, and a calm face in light of Lexa’s rage and rather terrifying visage.

“I owe you my life. Ai Woncha bid me join the battle against you Heda, and my duty to my people overrode my sense. I will not let that happen again.” She glanced up, eyes pleading for understanding, “If you will allow me to prove my loyalty to you.”

Lexa knew that if she granted clemency here, it would be argued that she was weak once more, if she let one live then she would have to let others live. Was her vengeance more important than the lives of her people? “Do you know of others who were involved in the coup?”

Katsein nodded, looking ashamed of herself, “I do.”

“Then you will live through the blood of your fellow natrona.” Lexa ruled coldly, knowing the kind of burden that would place on her new warrior, “And you will be without a clan. Delfikru will not claim you. Do you still wish to live?”

Katsein shuddered and stared at the ground, “It is not my life to choose Heda. I accept your wisdom.”

“Then you will live.” Lexa turned away, “I expect you to follow the instructions of myself and Ryder only, if you follow the command of any other no matter what they say, you will die to a thousand cuts.”

“Sha Heda.” Katsein followed Lexa, staying a few steps behind as any proper guardian would. “Would you like me to tell you who the other traitors are?”

“You will tell Indra. She will handle the executions.” Lexa dismissed her with a wave of her hand. She needed to find Asiya, to understand why Clarke was still asleep. She walked through the crowds of her people and was confused by the hushed tones with which they spoke, the way they looked at her. Lexa followed the path they opened before her.

There was no celebration of peace. Instead the clans had gathered around the pit of Brolgeda, in the center was an unlit bonfire with twelve wrapped bodies around it and five more stacked on top.

In the watery light of the morning Lexa stepped into the pit. “Oso fleim natrona op, koma gon Heda an Wanheda.” A man said, offering his torch to Lexa. “Hofli Wanheda gonplei nou ste odon.” He gave her a small smile.

_ We burn the traitors, to honor the commander and the commander of death. May Wanheda’s fight continue on. _

Lexa took the torch, shaken by the care her people had shown, they should be celebrating the beginning of a new era with their loved ones. Instead they were here, mourning with her. Standing with her. “Machof.” She said, lifting her chin high to guard against the tears. Lexa walked with her people by her side to the pyre, “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

Flames licked at the corpses of the archers who attacked Clarke and the fallen warriors who tried to overthrow Lexa. The commander watched her enemies be reduced to ash, knowing that there were still more that needed to follow, but she couldn’t muster the desire to kill them, to hunt them. Clarke was still laying in that bed, caught in the place between life and death, waiting for something. “I-I must go.” Lexa turned away from the flames.

“We will drink in honor of you and Wanheda.” A woman promised, taking the torch from Lexa’s hand.

More of her people wished her well. Some thanking her for the Brolgeda. Others giving wishes for Wanheda to survive her wounds. The moment felt like a dream that she wandered through in numbness, never before had her people had to help Lexa through her pain, it was always the other way around.

She knew they loved her as the commander that fought for peace, but to see mothers and fathers look at her the way they looked at their children. The concern and the worry she felt from them was so foreign she didn’t know what to do. Lexa shut down.

Lexa found Asiya eventually, but she couldn’t approach the matron. The woman was surrounded by a dozen families, telling stories about Clarke’s sacrifice for the great Heda and how the commander of death was resting from the use of so much power, that soon she would command her own death to turn aside until Kyongedon no longer needed her. Lexa felt like she was living in a fairy tale, waiting for the princess to wake and all to end well.

_ Love is weakness. _ The flame whispered in her ear. She was leaving traitors to run and hide while she waited for a dead woman to wake up, while she wandered among her people like any lost soul, while she pretended that there could be peace with such a weak commander.

Lexa turned away from the old woman and began searching for Indra and Katsein. They were gathered with Marcus Kane and a few of her most trusted allies. Chiefs from other clans, men and women that had joined the Congeda as soon as Lexa had declared her intent to join the clans under one city.

“Heda has given me control of this hunt and I will not allow any traitor to escape after insulting the commander and breaking Brolgeda.” Indra snapped, “It is our duty to make an example of them.”

“I agree that their crimes are serious, but can we trust the word of another traitor?” Kane gestured at Katsein, “How do we know that she won’t use this witch hunt to settle old scores or protect those she cares about?”

“Skaikru speaks well, we should make an example of natrona-du.” The chief of shallow valley slammed her dagger into the table to make her point.

“Katsein has no blood to give for her crimes.” Lexa replied, rounding the corner, “Her life is mine to end, and she has not finished her duties to me. I trust her to name those natrona that worked under her, but there are some who will not escape no matter their involvement in this.” Lexa leveled her counsellors with a cold glare, daring them to question her decision to willingly kill innocents.

No one spoke against her, so Lexa continued, “The warchiefs of Yujlifa, Ouskejonkru, Boudalankru and Sankru have ended their fights. They have declared no faith in Congeda, and no faith in Heda. I will not allow our peace to be broken by schemers and honorless lizards.”

Indra nodded her head in agreement, a sentiment agreed to by all the others in the room but one. Markus slammed his hand onto the table, “We cannot fall into this trap! Brolgeda was meant to bring peace! Now you are suggesting the beginning of another war just to avenge the injuries caused during the rite?” He shook his head, “We cannot retaliate like this, there has to be a better way.”

“And what would you suggest?” Lexa forced the anger out of her voice but it was infuriating to hear him speak, his compassion was pathetic, it weakened him. It was the same sentiment that got Clarke into her current position. “Shall we put all our enemies into a box together where they can plan together until the one man we miss lets them out? Or shall we bore them to death with talk of peace?”

“No.” Markus ignored the inherent derision in her word choice, “We make a show of strength, you have cleared the blood and burned the traitors. Send a message by declaring that those involved with breaking Brolgeda will be hunted down along with those that hide them. They will sweat in their beds waiting for your assassins, and will be torn from their places of power by their own people. They risked the death of their entire clan, let the people deal with the traitors in their own way as they discover those who tried to hurt you.”

“Your people love you Lexa, they were as enraged by the attempt on your life as Clarke was, let them take that out on the traitors for you.”

“So you would have my people tear themselves apart with accusations?” Lexa was struggling to keep her mask of calm in place.

“Yes.” Kane smiled, “Then when you send in a peace-keeping force, you are the strong commander making your people safe, taking care of your people once again. Don’t make it about vengeance, make it about keeping your people safe and they will love you more than ever.”

“They would become nothing more than hunted animals, fearing for the moment when their feelings are revealed. It would become a crime to even speak ill of you Heda. Not by your decree, but by the people’s, it is a good idea.” Woncha Cross said, looking to the commander.

Her expression was guarded as she considered the possibilities. “Collect the names of the traitors we know, they will become wanted for the betrayal, and I will not allow the heads of those clans to survive, but for now I will wait.”

“The longer we wait the easier it will be for them to go into hiding.” Indra warned.

“Let them hide.” Lexa didn’t care about snakes in the shadows, it was the ones that were allowed to move through the day that worried her. “If they are hiding, then they are not gathering forces against me. We postpone judgement until I come to a decision. All traitors found will be subjected to death by a thousand cuts in the pit of Brolgeda.”

“Sha Heda.” The councillors all bowed in their own time, even Kane eventually bowed to her decision despite his feelings to the contrary. He had seen the power of giving the people a common enemy.

Lexa’s days were filled with the deaths of her people as more of the traitors Katsein named were delivered to the pits to slowly bleed to death. She stood watch over each one as they bled out long before her sword would ever touch their filthy bodies.  _ Mercy is for the weak _ . She had to remind herself of that when some of the traitors begged for death at her hands.

Through it all, Clarke remained asleep.

Evenings she spent pacing by Clarke’s side. “Why won’t you wake up Clarke! You are healthy, your wounds are gone and your body is whole!” Lexa kicked over a table of medical implements, “Even Asiya agreed that you should have woken by now. Do you not care about our people anymore? Have you finally allowed death to overwhelm your duty to your people?”

Lexa grabbed Clarke’s face, “Is this what you mean by owing nothing more to our people? You were simply wishing for us to die together. You would let yourself die rather than protect our people from the dangers of this world, the dangers they create for themselves. Just wake up!”

The rage drained from her slowly, leaving her empty and alone in the tent with the body of her lover. Clarke still took breath, and her heart beat in her chest but she was no more aware of the world than the bed she lay upon. Lexa was alone again.

Alone with the burden of her people’s lives. “I can’t do this anymore Clarke, you ran away but I can’t, I can’t just leave my people. I can’t abandon them for my own selfish needs, but I can’t help them either. I need you to guide me. My head says to kill all of them, everyone who even thought ill of Congeda should die. My heart begs for mercy, to just end all the killing and let them continue on. I can’t choose, not anymore. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ve questioned me too many times, made me question myself.” Lexa fell into her chair with a sigh, elbows rested on her knees and head down. “And now you’ve left me to wander in the darkness… I hate you.” Green eyes lifted to glare at Clarke’s uncaring face, so peaceful in her rest. “I need you, and I hate you for it.”

Every night that Lexa’s rage went unanswered, the fire in her heart turned a little more to ice as she hardened herself to the inevitable end. Clarke was never going to wake up, and Lexa was never going to be as strong as she once was. At the end of the Brolgeda celebration, all the other clans left their separate ways to share the news with the rest of their people. Lexa was left with an impossible decision to make, and the frozen form of the woman she once loved.

It was with bitterness that Lexa sought out the woman who promised her hope. Lexa followed the sound of clacking wood, “You are weaving?” She couldn’t keep the sneer out of her voice even if she wanted to.

“You are standing. Birds are flying, grass is growing and the cycle of blood and death waits on your hand.” Asiya looked up from her work, “But I think your hand waits on the advice of Steskafa.”

Lexa pursed her lips and lifted her chin, “And what would you have me do?” She should not have asked, but part of her didn’t care who took the decision out of her hands, so long as the burden was taken from her.

Asiya smiled and shook her head, returning to her work, “I’m afraid I am only an old weaver now Heda. Steskafa is listening to the sound of the earth, waiting for the time when she will be needed by her people.”

“And if they do not need her?”

“There will never be a day when Steskafa is not needed, just as there will never be a day when your people do not need Heda.” Asiya took a deep breath of fresh air and seemed to savor it, “Perhaps she is waiting for one person in particular to speak.”

“I have spoken to her,” Lexa snapped, “I have begged and pleaded and done everything I can think of to wake her up!”

“Clarke will never wake to the voice of Heda.” Asiya smiled, “She is too stubborn to be commanded.”

Lexa opened her mouth to argue, but she realized that Asiya was right. She had demanded that Clarke keep her promises, to not leave her, tried to force her to rise and lead her people again. Just as she had when they first met. 

She had forgotten the quiet trust that had once lay between them, the peace in Clarke’s eyes as she saw Lexa’s eyes moments before passing out. The promise they had made to trust one another. Lexa had abandoned Clarke, and now hope slipped its way back into the cracks of her heart.

Lexa turned around and ran back to the tent where her lover lay, her feet pounding against the earth to the rhythm of clacking wood.

She strode into the tent and Ingan urged everyone to leave, closing the tent flap behind himself as the last to leave. Lexa’s heart pounded in her ears and she sat at Clarke’s side, cupping her lover’s cheek with a hesitant smile, “I’m sorry Clarke.” Lexa tossed her armor aside and laid down on the cot with Clarke, watching the slight flick of movement beneath closed eyes. She remembered the way their bodies fit together, and finally felt herself unwind.

Lexa watched Clarke sleep and couldn’t help but wonder what she could hear, how much of the world was being observed by this quiet woman while the rest of them hurtled towards death. She wondered what passed beneath pale eyelids. “Will you tell me about your dreams?”

Clarke took a deeper breath than before and Lexa’s heart jumped into her throat. It was working. “I can’t do this without you Clarke,” She whispered, pressing her head to Clarke’s cheek and closed her eyes, “Please wake up?”

Eyes bluer than any sky opened and met forest green.

 

~ Fin ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, okay, so I have about 2-3 legitimate stories that I am putting onto 'paper' right now, just spitballing to myself. The third(ish) of these being the sequel to this story. When I finished I wasn't really sure where to go from there, all the major conflicts that I was concerned with were solved, and so if you would like a sequel (I'll probably write one anyway) Feel free to let me know what you would like it to focus on.
> 
> I know a few of you have already talked about how you would like to get to know Asiya more, and I really enjoy her as a character, so any sequel I write will probably include her and Ingan, and most likely Katsein though at this point she's barely more than a cliffnote of a person. Right now my vague outline-ish thoughts include dealing with the drama of catching the last of the brolgeda breakers, and maybe some domestic fluffy blissfulness. But if anyone has any plot ideas, or conflicts we can throw in (Please god nothing to do with season 4 smh, that was a disaster.) shoot me a message or throw it into the comments.
> 
> And thank you one last time for reading, and sharing this story with me. It was good before, but you guys have made all the difference.


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